


Square Pegs and Round Holes

by Tempore



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2093352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tempore/pseuds/Tempore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You think you’re one thing, but then you’re not,” Tyler tells Freddy later that week, when he can have a few drinks on his couch, with no game the next day and only practice and training in the morning. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Freddy nods sympathetically and drinks his beer. Freddy is a true shapeshifter; he can change only bits and pieces, or completely switch genders. Tyler is what Freddy calls a switch; he’s either male or female, “like a lightswitch, man, you’re either on or off.” He flicks his finger up and down to illustrate the point. </i></p><p> </p><p>******<br/>In which Tyler is always a guy, but sometimes has a female form, and tries to keep himself out of trouble, with mixed results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Square Pegs and Round Holes

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings and possible spoilery bits: There is some dub-con and almost non-con elements to this story, in which some men get ultra aggressive. Also, some degree of self-internalized misogyny as well as some hints of homophobia. 
> 
> Also: in this story, some characters can switch or "shift" between male and female, and while they can control it, they do have to shift periodically or bad things start to happen, including attacks and a form of insanity. They exist separately from transgender people; as such, while the characters may have some sympathy or empathy for members of the transgender community, they do not consider themselves among it and they don't necessarily understand the struggle or their own situation in the same way. This should be read simply as the way one fictional character views the world, nothing more.
> 
> In short, many of the characters in this suffer from testosterone poisoning. In some cases, literally. 
> 
> I also played fast and loose with timelines and other canon. Basically, it's, you know...fiction. Also, I don't really know anyone in the hockey fandom who'd be willing to beta, so please forgive any mistakes or glaring continuity errors.

The first time it happened, Tyler was with the Whalers, training with his team before the game. 

The transformation started with an ache in his back, something he barely noticed and chalked up to overdoing it on the weight machine. The trainers were there, so he asked for a bit of Ibuprofen, but that didn’t help, and the ache spread, beginning to burn around his sides, down over his buttocks and through his groin, up over his chest, neck and face; then, milder, through his limbs, leaving him dizzy and trying to catch his breath, and seriously off balance. 

He threw his arms out and stumbled into the wall, and there were a few hands reaching out to steady him, along with a cacophony of alarmed voices, the one phrase most distinguishable, maybe because it was him asking it, was “What the fuck?” 

It was the only thing he could say, for several hours, repeated every time he looked down his body at the lumps on his chest, blocking his view almost of where his dick should be, but wasn’t. 

He couldn’t help it: he burst into tears. 

His mother was livid, when she was called, though she apologized after he started crying (again). He choked out an apology, said, “I didn’t mean to, I don’t know how it happened,” and she started crying, too. 

“I’m on my way down,” she said, “next flight out. Wait until I get hold of your father. This is his fault.” 

His father was bewildered, flew in at the same time as his mom, or at least, that’s what Tyler thought, because by that point, he was back in his bedroom, huddled under the blankets and trying desperately to not think or feel the changes in his body. 

His mom coaxed him out, said, “How did this happen?”

Tyler took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and then burst into tears. 

****  
Eventually, he stopped crying and learned a few things. It turned out to be a rare combination of genetics from both his parents. A recessive gene, the doctors said after a battery of tests that left Tyler aching and pissed off. 

“Normally, the first times happen before or at puberty, but Tyler’s a late bloomer,” one doctor said. “Should have named her Taylor, instead, huh?” 

Tyler was not amused, nor were his parents. 

“The good news, is that, while rare--less than 10,000 patients are known to have this trait in the US--you can control it,” the doctor continued. “It will take some time and training with a special physiotherapist, but you’ll be able to switch back and forth at will.” 

“So I can go back to being a boy? How do I change back?” Tyler asked. 

“Not so fast,” the doctor said. “Yes, of course, we can train you to switch your body, but there are a few things you need to be aware of. You’ll need, especially in the first couple years, to spend some time in each form, and what’s more, there are a few select bi-sexed people that can keep male and female traits at the same time.”

“Like she-males?” Tyler’s dad asked, eyes wide. 

The doctor frowned. “We can offer several resources for education on the special gift that is being gender-plus. It’s very misunderstood and many find even the terminology difficult to distinguish. Much like gender dysphoria, it comes with a lot of stigma and mislabeling.”

Paul had the grace to look slightly abashed by that. “Of course, I mean, I absolutely believe Tyler is incredibly gifted, his hockey playing is… well, he’s just great, all around. A good kid, too, and --”

“Am I a “he” or a “she” though?” Tyler interrupted. “I’m still a “he” as long as I want to be, right?” 

“The terminology and way you identify is completely up to you,” the doctor said. “But one thing you absolutely need to be aware of, as I’m sure you’ll want to experiment and learn more about your body: in every situation we are aware of, once a gender-plus person has given birth in female form, they have stayed female. In many cases, they’ve considered it to be a “settling” and in others, they’ve felt trapped, especially those who conceived while very young.” 

“So don’t get knocked up, is what he’s saying,” Paul said, and both parents swung around to look at Tyler, and then at each other. “Wow, that’s not quite the conversation I ever thought we’d be having.” 

Tyler shrugged, highly uncomfortable. “Don’t knock a girl up, don’t get knocked up. Either way, I could lose hockey. I get it.” 

It wasn’t the same at all, but Tyler couldn’t wrap his mind around all of the differences. The doctor talked on, about how hormonal birth control really wasn’t a viable option for shapeshifters, thanks to their unique physiology, and how testosterone, progesterone and estrogen all shifted too rapidly. He referred them to institutes in both Detroit and Canada that could help him with the shift, then finished up with the one thing Tyler really cared about: “I’ll give you an injection of testosterone today, which should help you trigger the change back to your male form.”

The needle was big, and Tyler dutifully pulled down the waistband of his pants, ignoring the half-curious, half-horrified looks from his parents at his much rounder hips and softer thighs before they looked away as he bent over and took the injection in his butt cheek. 

“Talk to my receptionist to set up a schedule for physiotherapy and learning how to control your shifting,” the doctor advised. “Control is absolutely necessary to maintaining a well-balanced lifestyle. Indeed, many gender-positive people find they enjoy shapeshifting, as both forms have distinctive advantages and disadvantages.” 

****  
Tyler reads the materials that they give him and learns that terminology has changed over the years, but the commonly used medical term is gender-plus and the common street term is shapeshifting. It’s not like the sci-fi kind, though; he’s not Mystique, with a blue body as a base form, he’s just a boy who sometimes turns into a girl. 

Over the years, Tyler learns there are, indeed, distinct advantages and disadvantages to being a shapeshifter. He also lucks out (though he doesn’t realize quite how much until he’s drafted to the Bruins) that he first shifted under the management of Jim Nill, whose wife, it turns out, is a shifter as well. 

It’s because of Jim that Tyler not only learns to control the shift, but learns about all the pitfalls and highlights of sometimes being a woman. It’s Bekki who talks to him about physiology in a real way, not the detached, clinical way the doctors discuss it, because none of his doctors, as far as Tyler can tell, are shifters themselves. 

The first few shifts he spends as a girl he spends in bed, curled up under the sheets and desperately wishing it to be over. He learns how to will the change reluctantly, and only because the first time he felt one coming on during a game and had to leave, he realized that he would have to time the changes strategically, or his body would dictate the schedule. 

He finally starts exploring his female body after the fourth time, when he had to pee and after, which is still something he can’t quite get over, not just being able to stand and aim, then shake it off, his fingers slip over some of the folds and he can’t help it, he’s curious. He has some experience with girls, he’s no virgin, but breasts and vaginas are still new enough that it’s a prime opportunity to figure out what makes them work. 

And that reasoning kicking into place makes a whole lot of other things settle. He finds the buttons that make his breath hitch, and really, his clit is just like a teeny tiny little dick, some of the same sensations hitting him when he starts rubbing it. The best part is that his labia are sensitive all the way back, and dipping inside, wow, it’s so slick, different from water. And it’s good. He’s felt that and even tasted it with girls, before, but how it feels when it’s his body preparing to make him feel good, that’s so different. 

He touches his breasts, too, his nipples hard under his finger and thumb. His female nipples are so much larger than the tiny nubs he has as a boy, but maybe that makes sense, given that his breasts are larger as a whole; would seem weird to have such tiny things on a larger chest. 

Though in reality, his chest isn’t all that large, not like some of the girls he’s seen; he thinks he could maybe get away without a bra if his shirt was loose and thick enough. His billet mom doesn’t say much, but she buys him some camisole tops with shelf bras in them, some sports bras too, so he can continue to train, and some women’s underwear. She says, “If you ever need them, there are menstrual supplies in the cabinet in the master bedroom.” 

Ugh. Just, no. 

Tyler doesn’t worry about that, though, not too much. He won’t be in female form long enough to worry about the onset of his period. Instead, he takes advantage of the time he is in female form to get himself off. He feels his orgasm building, and rides it as it crests, then breaks, sending chills all down his skin. 

That is never a bad feeling, no matter what form his body takes. 

****

He still stays away from going out as a girl until he gets to Boston. It’s his rookie year and hockey is overwhelming. He spends as much time as as he can in his male form, only slipping into female form perfunctorily at home, getting himself off to pass the time. He wonders, idly, what it would be like to have a guy rut up against him, wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to find out, or even if he’d really want to. Idle fantasies are one thing, but with his career blossoming and the city of Boston being something brand new, that’s the one thing he doesn’t want to risk.

But they say nothing to him, don’t give him his own room like Jim Nill had offered with the Whalers, so Tyler says nothing about it. Instead, the PR team is busy with him, trying to polish him into a media gem. There’s only so much Tyler’s willing or able to handle or hide, and he knows he plays good hockey. He can’t lose his confidence in that; it’s what got him through the shifting thing and with a team for whom his freak status was an open secret. Had Tyler not had the confidence to play his best, had he not believed in his heart he was that damn good, he’d never have made it to the draft. 

Confidence on the ice translates to confidence off of it. He’s young, he can play hockey, he has money and support and women really like him. Men do, too, but Tyler is not willing to entertain that as more than fantasy, not right now. 

How would he even pick up a guy? Is it like picking up girls, he wonders? He knows in his female form, it wouldn’t be, not at all. He’s too dominant, too aggressive for guys to like, but what kind of attention would he get? If his male form gathers admiring glances from both sexes, what would his female form do? 

***  
It’s all just fantasy, really, until he meets Freddy Bender. 

“Please tell me that’s your real name,” Tyler says. He took one look at Freddy and knew, the same way Freddy’s eyes widened and he grinned real wide at Tyler. There’s something about the gene where like recognizes like, Tyler has realized, because he once picked out a shapeshifter in the stands from the ice. Tyler had made eye contact with the kid, who smiled tentatively, then flipped a puck up over the ice to her later. He caught a lot of ribbing from the guys about being a baby himself, but it was obvious she’d just had her first shift, and Tyler could relate to how disorienting it all was. 

“You think you’re one thing, but then you’re not,” Tyler tells Freddy later that week, when he can have a few drinks on his couch, with no game the next day and only practice and training in the morning. 

Freddy nods sympathetically and drinks his beer. Freddy is a true shapeshifter; he can change only bits and pieces, or completely switch genders. Tyler is what Freddy calls a switch; he’s either male or female, “like a lightswitch, man, you’re either on or off.” He flicks his finger up and down to illustrate the point. 

Maybe it’s because of this that Freddy is more comfortable with his body, as well as fluid with his sexuality. He talks about things sometimes, that Tyler feels but can’t put in words, and it’s a relief, to find himself not alone at all. Mrs. Nill had been one of those women content to settle into being female; she talked a lot about maternal instincts kicking in and all that. But Mrs. Nill’s baseline is female; she spent enough time in that form to do things like have menstrual cycles and everything. 

“What’s the longest you’ve spent as a female?” Tyler asks Freddy. 

“Three months, when I was fifteen,” Freddy says. “I spent the summer that way at my aunt and uncle’s house. It was enough to know that I don’t really like being full-time female, but enough to really get a sense of what it’s like to live in a girl’s body. What about you?” 

“Twenty-four hours, give or take,” Tyler says. “I stayed in my room the entire time, hiding.” He takes a drink, but swallows roughly when he sees Freddy staring at him. “What?”

“So you’ve never gone out in female form?” 

Tyler shakes his head. “I mean, not that many people have seen it. You haven’t even seen it, really.” 

Freddy blinks and sits up. “Show me,” he says. 

“What?”

“Show me. Come on, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

He grins, and Tyler can’t help but laugh, despite his heart pounding suddenly. 

“Come on, I need you to trust me,” Freddy says. He pulls off his shirt and stands up to shift. Tyler has only felt his shift, never really watched the process, and Freddy makes it look simple, almost graceful. His chest shifts first, and he grins, saucily, then his waist seems to narrow, shift down a bit so that his hips swell, and it’s like a wave rolling in to crash on the beach, somehow, watching him shift. 

He’s still recognizably Freddy to anyone who really knows him, but he’s softer somehow. 

“I’ve always wondered how we can do this, but no one seems to have figured it out, yet,” Freddy muses, looking down at himself. He grins at Tyler. “Want to see my pussy?” 

Tyler’s mouth goes a little dry at the thought. He sees a lot more pussy now that he’s an NHL star, and he has a reputation for knowing exactly what to do with it, but still, it’s not like he’s ever going to say no. Freddy knows, because he’s laughing as he tugs down his boxers. 

Tyler steps forward, but Freddy shakes his head, says, “Show me your pussy, babe, and then you can sit on my face.”

Tyler’s brain shorts out, but his body must have been on board, because it’s seconds before Freddy is laughing at the quickness of his transformation. And Freddy’s right, because this form of him is smaller all over, much lighter somehow despite the fact that Tyler knows that mass has the same weight. It’s something that’s a mystery, even in the medical community. It’s not just that it shifts, Tyler’s body burns off weight somehow during the shift, and then adds it right back on again. 

Oh, he always finds that he’s lost a few pounds when he shifts back, but for the most part, he comes back in the same shape he was; like his body remembers what and where everything was. Others apparently aren’t so lucky; maybe it’s because Tyler works out so much, but a lot of the male shifters tend to be on the smaller side; transitioning between male and female with no discernible drop in mass. Tyler loses height and weight. 

Unlike Freddy, Tyler is not really recognizable in his female state. His eyes are the same, yes, and maybe the shape of his ears and his hair is the same color and style, more or less, but his jawline is completely different. He looks a lot like a brown-haired version of his sister Candace, in fact, and she’s really pretty, so he figures that’s a good thing, overall, even if his hair is dumb. 

Freddy’s laughter is already petering out, though, replaced by a speculative look, because Tyler is still in a t-shirt and shorts that had been baggy all around, but now are held up pretty much only by his hips. 

“Take it off,” Freddy orders, and his voice is still his own. Tyler envies that; his comes out more breathy somehow when he shifts. He feels like a squeaky toy when he has to talk in female form. 

Tyler takes his shirt off, and because Freddy is still Freddy, his hands are on Tylers breasts before he even has the shirt over his head. 

“Jesus,” Tyler says, because Freddy was so quick on that, but also because someone besides a doctor is touching his girl bits for the first time in his life. It feels really good, and Tyler puts his hands on Freddy’s hands, pressing them down, both of them watching what Freddy is doing. 

“Put your hands on me, Ty,” Freddy says, and this part at least, Tyler is good at, used to it, even if not in this form. 

“We get to be our own lesbian porn,” Freddy says, startling Tyler into laughter. He ducks in and kisses Freddy, and guides him back the step or two to the couch, pushing him down and straddling his waist. 

Freddy looks good, grinning up at him in his female form. “I could bring my dick back,” he says. “Have you ever been fucked?” 

Tyler’s up and off him so fast, he doesn’t quite realize until he’s across the room. 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Freddy says. He pushes up on his elbows, and his tits are really nice, Tyler thinks absently, even as he’s still eyeing Freddy with apprehension. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you off. Come back here, I promise, nothing like that. Just come on, sit on my face. You’ll love it.” 

“I just…it’s not something I have thought about too much,” Tyler says, but he comes back, slower now, but still turned on by the sight of Freddy spread out naked in front of him. 

Freddy seems to realize this, because he starts playing with his breasts and slides a hand down between his legs, spreading them. “Or maybe we should sixty-nine. You can eat my pussy, I know you love that, right?” 

And Freddy’s not wrong, so Tyler gets a leg up and swings it over Freddy’s head, gets them both comfortable, and dives in. It feels weird, feeling his breasts rubbing up against the swell of Freddy’s hips, the soft curve of his belly where before there had been the firm V of muscle leading to his groin. But Freddy tastes so good, and his tongue and lips feel good on Tyler, so it’s not long before he’s lost in the sensation. He has to concentrate on getting Freddy off or else he gets too wrapped up in the feeling of Freddy’s mouth on his pussy, because it’s the first time that anyone else has done anything to him in female form, and Freddy’s as good at it as Tyler is. 

Later, Tyler switches back while he’s dozing, caught between waking and sleeping, and feeling the flesh in his arms press back against him. 

“We should go out like this some time, hit up a lesbian bar, or something,” Freddy murmurs sleepily. 

“You go out like this?” Tyler asks. “Ever pick up a guy?” 

Freddy nods. “Yeah, a few times. I have the ability, might as well enjoy it.” 

“Don’t you worry about getting pregnant?” 

“Well, no,” Freddy says. “We get all those lectures about it, and all, but the thing is, if you switch back right away after, your body just seems to absorb everything, I guess. There’s no way to carry it, you know? That’s my theory, anyway; I think most of the ones who get pregnant have to be shifted long enough to have a full cycle, complete with ovulation. You shift right away, you don’t have the girl parts to carry it.”

And Tyler hadn’t thought of it like that, but in the meantime, Freddy’s been grinding his ass back, just a little, against Tyler’s dick, so it’s no big thing at all to shift slightly and pull Freddy’s leg up and back over his thigh so he can line up and push in. 

Freddy gasps and its hot, one hand tucked under, hand wrapped around Freddy’s neck, his leg hitched up and his little gasps and curses when Tyler gets his other hand around and starts rubbing two fingers on his clit. 

Freddy feels hot and tight around him, still wet from earlier, and he likes being able to fuck like this, kind of lazy and easy. He can feel the rough texture of the couch against the hip he’s lying on, and the way the blanket is kind of bunched beneath his legs, but it feels too good to change positions just yet. 

Just as the intensity is starting to ratchet up, though, Freddy pulls away enough that Tyler slips out. He can feel Freddy shift, and Tyler’s about to protest, but Freddy just takes his dick in hand and guides it to his ass. 

“Don’t we need some lube, or something?” 

“You’re covered in it already,” Freddy says, and slides down slowly, giving himself time to adjust. He gasps and moans a little; and Tyler’s mind is blown because he’s never done this before with a guy, either. 

It’s an awkward position for Freddy to move too much, mostly just his hips, but Tyler is feeling pretty mindfucked by the sudden change in events. Besides, Freddy’s ass is pretty much the most amazing thing Tyler’s ever felt in his life outside of scoring game winning goals, so he’s just going to go with it. 

“Carpe diem,” he says, and starts thrusting up. 

Freddy laughs shortly, punctuated by these little grunts and before, if it was two females getting their lesbian porn action on, well, now it’s all manly grunts and weird sounds. 

“You gonna be a bro and give me a reach around?” Freddy asks. 

“God, so demanding,” Tyler says, but he’s laughing a little, and he reaches over and just goes for it, jerking off Freddy the way he thinks he’d want to be jacked off, if he had a dick up his ass. And that’s a thought to store away for another time to examine, because it has pushed Tyler into full on, ready to rut territory. As soon as Freddy comes, Tyler has them up, Freddy on his knees, ass in the air. Freddy’s not fully on board at first, feeling lethargic after his own orgasm but hey, he started this whole thing, and Tyler slams in, grabbing Freddy’s hips with a groan. 

“Gonna come,” he says, and Freddy shifts his knees just a touch wider, shoving his ass back on Tyler’s dick, and that’s it. Tyler’s not just coming, he’s going, going, gone. 

After he’s come down from that and Freddy’s gone off to clean up, Tyler just lays there, spent, and realizes, “I just had lesbian, straight and gay sex in one session. Fucking amazing.” 

All of the implications of that are too much to process, so he carefully stores them away to think about later. Or not. 

After that, Tyler’s a bit more open to exploring the advantages of being a shapeshifter, though most of his exploration is done in the comfort of his and Freddy’s place. They are best friends, and both of them agreed that that was it, nothing more than buddies exploring all the possibilities. Tyler has to agree, though, that shifter sex is the best sex, because they know firsthand how a variety of things feel, “and that’s something to be taken advantage of,” Freddy says earnestly. “Now, suck my dick.’ 

Tyler cracks up, but Freddy can be pretty persuasive. So far, it’s worked out in Tyler’s favor, so he’s not really complaining. He’s learning a lot about his sexuality, and it turns out, he’s pretty fluid. 

Unfortunately, it’s not long before they run into trouble.

Freddy has slowly been wearing Tyler down, introducing him to all the “perks” of sometimes being a woman, and one of them, he says, is going to clubs wearing skimpy clothes and having no bar tab because the guys will buy them all drinks. 

At first, Tyler is adamant in his refusal, and Freddy drops hints and suggestions every once in a while, but doesn’t press the issue. On occasion, he’ll go out as a woman himself. Tyler’s not jealous exactly, except how at that point, he gets dirty looks from the bartender if he’s not the one paying for Freddy’s drinks, especially when Freddy rubs up on him the entire time. And, whatever, it’s not like Tyler doesn’t have the money, but it does get Tyler thinking a little bit about expectations of gender roles. 

But after a while, Tyler starts getting worn down. It’s a new season and he’s won the Stanley freakin’ Cup as a rookie, so it feels like the world is nothing but possibilities. It’s not that he’s stupid about it, it’s just that there’s so much stuff he wants to conquer, and this could be one of the things he can have, maybe. 

He wants to try it. Freddy looks like he’s having a ball, and on the few occasions he’s gone by himself or has gone home with someone else, he comes back with this heavy lidded, cat-like satisfaction that Tyler envies. 

So he agrees to go. 

They go to a club, dressed to the nines. Tyler has large feet for a girl, and he’s not risking damaging them or his ankles by wearing heels, so he wears cowboy boots instead with his tight little dress. They figure the Mazarati is too recognizable as his, so they take the T instead, and just the kind of response they get on the train is enough to make Tyler suggest they turn around and go back. 

Freddy has introduced him to a lot of things, but Tyler still refuses to be fucked in female form. He’s a Stanley Cup winner, he’s a famous hockey player. He’d lose everything if he got knocked up. 

But Freddy promises that they can just go out and dance, let the guys buy them drinks, and then they’ll go home together. No picking up, just some mild flirting. Just enjoy being hot women with nothing to worry about, let go of everything else for a night and enjoy it, all low-risk. 

“No one will recognize you,” Freddy says and tugs him down the street. Freddy is wearing heels, and a strappy little sundress that shows off his arms and back, despite it being pretty cold still. He shivers, and Tyler almost offers his jacket, but realizes the advantage of also being female is that he doesn’t have to be chivalrous. Freddy made his choice to not wear sensible clothing; he can suffer the consequences. 

The club is packed, with a line queuing around the corner. It’s one of those clubs that Tyler has a love/hate relationship with; he’s VIP often enough and the girls so fucking fine that it’s worth paying for the extra champagne and expensive drinks, but he’s also a Brampton boy when it comes down to it, and he’s fully aware of what these women are looking for, for the most part. They want his money and his status; him...maybe not so much. Not his personality, anyway. His body, absolutely and apparently, that doesn’t change, regardless of whether he has a penis or breasts. They usually don’t bother to find out if he’s a douchebag or not, and he generally doesn’t bother to find out if they like anything more than really good sex.

It is total validation for his vanity, though, that he and Freddy waltz past the line and right in the club. They make smokin’ hot chicks, and as soon as they’re in the door, they’re being sized up, guys offering to buy them drinks, wanting to dance with them. Tyler and Freddy accept drinks but dance together, and Tyler may not be good at dancing, but he does love it. 

Freddy’s grinding back against him and Tyler is watching him along with all the guys watching them, when he gets hit with the knowledge that there’s another shifter in the room. Freddy stiffens and leans against Tyler, and both their eyes turn toward the door. 

Shifters are extremely rare. Tyler’s been lucky that he’s come across Freddy, the little girl, Mrs. Nill, but this guy doesn’t feel like he’s any kind of good luck. Within that rare group of shifters, there’s a small but vocal faction that believes they are some kind of mutant gift of the universe, evolving to the next level of perfection or adaptability or some shit. It’s basically a complete misreading of Darwin’s Origin of Species, which Tyler read while doing research on his condition. 

This guy reeks of testosterone, even across the room, and Tyler thinks that it has to have been a crazy long time since he’s shifted. Tyler has felt his testosterone rise to alarming levels when he’s been on the road and during the playoffs for the Cup, when he’s gone too long without shifting, or not shifted to female for long enough to satisfy his body’s need for balance. It’s not fun, and it’s certainly not good. 

“How’s he doing it?” Tyler asks. The guy is already staring at them, making his way through the crowd, and he’s hulking. He reads as a predator. In this smaller form, wearing his little dress and cowboy boots that still pinch his toes, for the first time, Tyler understands how it feels to be seen as prey. 

“It has to be chemical,” Freddy says, and the guy is close enough that he hears it, and smiles, baring his teeth. 

“You just have to be man enough,” he practically growls, and swings an arm over each of their shoulders, all faux buddy-buddy. “Which you two ladies obviously are not.” 

He laughs at his joke, but Tyler and Freddy are both trying to duck away from his arms, even as he’s herding them toward the bar. “Let’s get you ladies some drinks,” he says. Tyler struggles and can feel Freddy trying to resist, but the guy just leans in and whispers, “Don’t make a scene. Aren’t you a little bit curious?” 

And he is, a little bit, and so is Freddy, even if he’s grimacing. The guy orders for them without asking, the insult plain as he orders them Cosmos, and Freddy turns to Tyler, grabs his arm and says, “Let’s get out of here,” but the guy clamps a meaty hand on Freddy’s shoulder and hands him one of the drinks. “C’mon, beautiful, one drink and I can tell you how I do it.” 

He hands Tyler the other drink, and Tyler sips it, grimacing at the sickly sweet taste. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Jed,” the guy says. “Now, come on ladies, let’s find us a quiet corner to chat.” 

He has a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, and some of it spills on Tyler’s shoulder when he throws his arm around his neck, leading them off, whether Tyler likes it or not. He can feel the way the guy’s forearm is squeezing at his neck; it may look friendly with the dude all smiles and shit, but it’s not friendly at all. 

Freddy grimaces, but he follows along anyway, only pausing long enough to grab some napkins from the bar and handing them to Tyler as soon as the guy lets go. The guy leads them to corner by the staircase leading up to VIP; it’s dark and somewhat secluded, tucked away as it is. There are bodies dancing and moving a few feet away, but they aren’t paying attention to them. 

Jed presses Tyler against a dark wall, kicking his foot aside. And cowboy boots are great for a lot of things, but they don’t have a ton of traction on a slippery floor, and Tyler starts to slip, pulling at his groin painfully. It’s just enough distraction that Jed is leaning in to bite at his neck, and his teeth are sharp, leaving Tyler gasping painfully. Freddy is there, pulling at the guy’s arm, demanding he stop, but the guy just throws him off with enough force to send Freddy sprawling in his heels. Tyler looks out toward the still-loud club, but no one seems to be paying them any attention, and shit, the guy has one hand already pulling at the hem of his dress, so Tyler gets one arm between them against his chest to give him some breathing room and he bites down hard on the guy’s shoulder, grinding his teeth. Jed jerks back and Tyler pushes at him, stupid girl arms too weak to do much, but he also manages to get his knee up into the guy’s groin. He pulls back with a snarl and it’s enough time that Freddy is up and tossing his drink in the guy’s face, followed by a punch to the gut. 

They don’t stick around to wait for him to recover, diving into the crowd and pushing out the front door, walking as fast as they can to get away from there. 

They make it two blocks before Tyler is peeling off his boots and saying, “I gotta switch back, I don’t care, man, I have to--” 

Tyler can’t shift, though; his head is hurting too much, and Freddy is stumbling up ahead of him, straight off the sidewalk and nearly getting hit by a car. 

“Fuck, Freddy, stop!” Tyler manages to catch up, still barefoot on the cold ground, and grabs Freddy by the arm. There are still people watching them, but Tyler manages to dig into the pocket of his dress (“It has pockets!” he remembers telling Freddy in the dressing room, which is why he bought it) for his phone, but when he sees one approaching, he manages to flag down a taxi. 

“Do we need to go to the emergency room?” he asks. Freddy seems to snap out of whatever fog is bothering him and does a cursory check of his body, tapping his thumb to each of his fingers, something he does when he’s trying to gauge how drunk he is or warm up for playing guitar, and then he shakes his head slowly. “I’m going to be sore, but I’m okay. My head hurts, though. You?” 

“Head hurts, but I think I’m okay. Let’s just get home.” 

The driver gives them a glance in the mirror, but he says nothing, just drives them to the address they give him. 

Tyler tries to shift again when they get in the door, but no such luck. He’s stuck as a woman. 

“I think he put something in that drink,” Freddy says. He hasn’t looked at Tyler since they got in the cab, and Tyler feels a combination of guilt and angry, because it hadn’t been his idea to go out in the first place, and now they’re both fucked up. But Tyler doesn’t want to talk about it, feels like the ugliness of the night would only get worse, so he just says goodnight and heads to bed. 

Tyler is still a woman when he wakes up in the morning, his head still a dull, painful ache. He sits up and feels a bit nauseous, and thinks, “I’m so fucked.” His doctor is the team doctor, he can’t not go in, or to the hospital. 

Rising, he knocks on Freddy’s door. Freddy opens it a crack, looks down at him, because of course he’s male again, and his eyes widen. “Don’t you have practice?” 

“I can’t change back. I need you to take me in.”

“I only had a couple sips of my drink,” Freddy says. “Do you think that’s why?” 

Tyler had only a couple sips of his, too, but he’s stuck. He doesn’t say anything, though, just leans his head against the window and looks out at Boston through his sunglasses. 

Everyone stops in their tracks when Tyler walks in the door. Most of the guys aren’t fully undressed, but they all startle, and Ference starts to tell him that he can’t be in there. Freddy walks in with him and shakes his head at them. 

“Come on, Tyler,” he says and steers Tyler straight toward the trainer’s room. They recognize Freddy, though he looks as bad as Tyler feels, and Chara has stepped forward to ask what’s going on when the doctor comes out of the training room and takes Tyler by the elbow. 

Freddy had the presence of mind to call ahead and let the doctors know they were coming and that Tyler had a problem. 

“Come on in Tyler, let’s see how bad it is,” the doctor says, and Tyler follows, feeling the way the room goes still as he exits. 

“Wait, is that Segs?” he hears Marchy ask just before the door shuts behind them. 

The team is out on the ice practicing when Tyler is allowed to leave. He’s still in female form, and the doctor had run some tests, finding that he did indeed have a known suppressant in his system. It’s a dangerous drug, and while there’s obviously just trace amounts, it’s enough that, even when he does switch back, he will miss a game or two until it gets flushed out. 

“Drink a lot of fluids,” the doctor tells him, and Tyler nods and waits for him to leave before he gets dressed again, his t-shirt and workout shorts far too large on him. He’s relieved that he doesn’t have to face all of them right away, not in that form. 

While doctor-patient confidentiality is a thing, Tyler knows that the pussy is out of the bag, so to speak. He supposes they could have avoided the locker room somehow, but the guys were going to find out sooner or later. He doesn’t know how they’re going to react. Freddy is there, sitting in Tyler’s stall, and near the door is Peter Chiarelli, who is talking quietly to one of the PR women, and they both look up when Tyler comes in. 

“We’ll have to talk a bit when you’re feeling better,” Chiarelli says with a glance at the woman. Her smile is a bit more sympathetic, or if Tyler had to guess, was trying to be, at least. 

“Your...condition...is extremely rare, and while we’re certainly willing and able to make reasonable accommodations, we’ll need to discuss whether this is going to continue to be a problem. You can’t play in your current state, but that it is a temporary effect,” Chiarelli says. 

Tyler just nods. He wants to get home and sleep it off and deal with the fallout later, when he can face it in his other form. 

“When you’re...better, we’ll chat about how we can prevent such occurrences in the future,” he adds. 

He manages the shift that night, when he’s in the bathroom getting ready to take a piss, and it’s a relief to be able to do so in his own form. 

Tyler keeps the shifts to a bare minimum after that. He has the chat with Chiarelli and PR, and it goes about as well as any conversation with people who have no idea what it means to be a shifter could, he guesses. Whatever their personal feelings on it, they don’t really give a shit about him beyond him 1: being able to play and 2: not making the organization look bad. Basically, they tell him in no uncertain terms to keep his shifts to himself and not go out in public in female form. Given the result of the one time he did, Tyler can’t really find the fault in that. 

Conversely, Freddy spends more time than ever in female form, though he rarely talks to Tyler about it. Tyler doesn’t push the issue; he has more than enough to deal with, because the environment in the locker room with his team, coaches and everyone in the organization has changed. 

He’s playing again, and at first he’s just grateful that no one doubts his ability to play, not Chiarelli, not Claude, and he works harder than ever to prove that he’s worth keeping around. Chiarelli and his assistant general managers had sat down with him and his agent, talked about how disappointed they were that he kept this a secret when it could affect them all, but otherwise, they seem to accept it. When the media asks about why he was absent for one game, Julien quips, “hip issues” with a straight enough face that everyone takes it at face value. That becomes his default to fall back on, and it’s true enough, in a weird sort of way. 

Chiarelli asks if he needs special accommodations on the road. “We can get you your own room if you need one,” he offers, and that’s kind, but now that it’s out there, Tyler says he can handle it the same as he has been, and that it was only because he was drugged that it was a problem. 

“Freak accident,” he says. “I’ll be more careful.” 

“Tyler, you need to cut back on your drinking and partying,” Chiarelli says. 

“I wasn’t drunk, I had one beer and a few sips of the drink he bought me,” but that doesn’t make it any better. Instead, the PR lady says, “Don’t accept drinks from strangers and you won’t be in this position again.” 

“I won’t,” he says, and hangs his head. He has a lot more empathy for sexual assault victims, because the thoughts and emotions he’s processing are all over the place. And he doesn’t consider himself a victim; he managed to get away. But if Freddy hadn’t been there, too, or if he’d had more to drink. 

The team are a mixed bag when it comes to how they treat him. None of them are hostile, but there is certainly a lot of misunderstanding and misinformation, and to be fair, they’re hockey players. They aren’t paid to be brains, nor are they great at being subtle. 

Ference is great, of course, and he helps a lot, because of course he does a bunch of research and knows the right questions and things to say. He heads off a lot of the more insensitive questions, Tyler finds out, and he’s grateful more than he can say. Ferry has always been a great teammate, but he really steps up to help Tyler out, as do Bergie and Krejci. 

But some of them are clearly trying to come to terms with it, and even Marchy tells him, “It’s not that I find it offensive or unnatural, but I feel betrayed. I feel like you lied to us. I get why you did, I guess I’m just sad that you felt like you had to.” 

“It’s not like that,” Tyler says. 

“How is it, then?” 

Tyler doesn’t really have an answer for that, nothing he can put into words, at any rate. 

And finally, because they weren’t all there when he came in, Marchy is the one who asks what they all want to know, “will you show me?” 

“Dude,” Tyler says, half amused, half disgusted. “I get why girls hate dudes so much, sometimes. Like, seriously, you just asked me to show you my tits?” 

“Not like that,” Horton says. He cuffs Marchy upside the head, and smiles reassuringly at Tyler. “While wearing your clothes. We want to know what you look like in that form. So we can recognize you.” 

“You don’t have to, you shouldn’t feel pressured,” Ferry says, giving the rest of them a dirty look. “Jesus, guys.” 

Bergy and Horton hasten to back him up, just saying he should feel free to be himself, whichever form that takes, around them. He shouldn’t feel uncomfortable.”

“What about your pronoun preference, does that change?”

Really, it’s all too much to think about, so to shut them up, Tyler does a quick shift. Of course, he’s in his boxer briefs and pads, and he doesn’t wear anything under them, so they get a good look at his rack, anyway, which kind of shuts them up for a few seconds. 

Then Bergy laughs and tosses a shirt at him, saying, “cover yourself, woman!” and they all laugh.

Some of the questions are the same things that Tyler himself always wonders about, like, “Where do your tattoos go when you’re in female form?” 

“Probably the same mysterious place my Adam’s apple goes,” Tyler says. “I have no clue, honestly. It’s just weird.”

“Well the weight redistribution is pretty obvious,” Quaider says and then looks horrified. “Shit, I didn’t mean… fuck.” 

Tyler laughs and the rest of them laugh with him. They’re all staring out of the corners of their eyes and impulsively, he removes the now way too big pads, and just does a shimmy, arms out. “Nothing most of you haven’t seen before, except maybe the rookies.” 

For all the joking, he’s happy to tug the shirt over his head. He could switch back now, but he keeps his female form as they finish up and only shifts back when they head out the door. He lets the guys get used to him that way, and they’re good guys, they adapt quickly. Chara lays a heavy paw on his shoulder and smiles, Bergy taps the back of his hand against Tyler’s arm, and Ferry ruffles his hair and invites him home to dinner. 

The relief that they accept him wars with the sinking feeling that he just turned into the team’s favorite little sister. 

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath and heads for his car. “This could actually be worse.” 

****  
Sure enough, the normal pranks and language in the locker room change. It’s a bit subtle at first, and Tyler almost doesn’t notice it, but he starts picking up on it when half the team glares at Marchand for using the term “bitch.” 

The guys talk about their girlfriends or wives a bit differently as well. There are fewer references to them being on their period, or pmsing. And Tyler has only experienced one menstrual cycle, and that was plenty enough for him; they fucking suck and he will never, ever criticize a woman for how she deals with that again, because that shit was fucking insan. The fact that women function at all during that time of the month makes them much stronger human beings than any guy, even hockey players. 

He says as much in the locker room, just jawing, basically, talking shit with Marchy and all. Horton is nodding along nearby, kind of grinning, but his eyes widen when he glances over Tyler’s shoulder, and Tyler turns to find one of the PR people standing there, looking disapproving. 

If the team and coaching staff have essentially taken Tyler’s gender-plus status in stride, the rest of the organization have not been quite so sanguine. The PR staff seem to think he’s one disaster away from being outed, and granted, Tyler doesn’t want to know what would happen if other teams knew, given the level of sexism inherent in the sport already, but he thinks maybe, if the Bruins are any indication, it wouldn’t be as bad as they fear. 

Besides, Tyler basically has it under lock, so barring any other unfortunate circumstances, it’s fine. 

The only problem is that now, his shapeshifting becomes the scapegoat for everything he does wrong. They talk about keeping his reputation clean, and how tragic it would be if he drank too much and “lost control.” They think that now, even if he goes out in male form, he’s going to end up tearing his clothes off and flashing his breasts. 

Tyler is currently leading the team in points, so he’s not sure what exactly they’re getting at. It pisses him off, that he spends like, two seconds in female form and they think he’s incapable of playing the game, but whatever. He tries to reassure them as best he can, but they don’t seem convinced. Mostly, they just look at him as if he’s some kind of freak, which he guesses he kind of is, but it’s not like he’s actually deformed. He just has girl parts on occasion. 

Management is also talking contracts, and it’s laughable how low they start with. His agent is mostly handling it, and keeping Tyler in the loop, and he tells Tyler that’s standard, but Tyler isn’t so sure. 

Sometimes, he wonders how much of all this doubt is in his head. He’s second-guessing everything, and it sucks. Hockey has been his life almost all of his life. His entire family plays. That’s not going to change just because he’s in female form; his mom and sisters still kick ass. He wonders, too, if he changed form, if he’d still be half as good. Would he be as good as the female players for Team Canada are? Does this double his chances for making an olympic team? 

“Shit, why did I never think of that, before?” Tyler asks Freddy, but Freddy just shrugs. “Because no way is the IOC going to accept someone who mostly functions and plays as a guy on a female team, in a female locker room. Can you imagine the outcry that would cause?” 

Tyler thinks about how it would be nice if his best friend would actually bother to care. Lately Tyler feels lonely, which is bullshit when he has a roommate, but if Tyler has taken to doing the bare minimum of shifting, Freddy has gone the opposite. He’s spending much of his time as a female, to the point where Tyler finds feminine hygiene products in one of the bathrooms. It’s weird and Tyler doesn’t like it; not because he doesn’t like female Freddy-- that’s perfectly fine. 

It’s that Freddy seems to be using that form to hide from Tyler. It feels like a mask, almost, like Freddy is playing the helpless female role, and it’s so far from the truth that it makes Tyler sick. Freddy’s turning into a stereotype of a bubbly, air-headed sorority girl, and since Freddy is one of the smartest guys Tyler knows, it’s really disappointing to see that disappear in a cloud of perfume and fluffy hair. 

“I don’t care if he’s a chick,” Tyler says, and Ferknuckle frowns. “Woman, you know what I mean. I care that he’s acting like a dumb one, the same that I’d be pissed off if he was acting like a dumb guy. Except, like, women get enough shit as it is, you know? Girls like my sisters and Ciara, and your wife and girls, they don’t need some parody reinforcing bullshit stereotypes.” 

Andy looks thoughtful, and he’s eyeing Tyler like he’s impressed. 

“What? I have sisters and sometimes a pussy,” Tyler says. 

“Not much lately,” Andy points out. “How often are you doing it?”

“I’m not comfortable in that shape,” Tyler says. “I’m used to this. I like my tattoos.” 

“Have you talked to him about it? Asked him why?” 

Tyler hasn’t told anyone else the story, so he can’t tell Andy that he thinks he knows exactly what Andy is looking at him with some concern. “He started this after you got stuck in female form, right?” 

Tyler nods.

“Tyler, did something happen between you? Or to both of you?” 

Tyler sucks his lower lip between his teeth and looks away. “Nothing, really, just an encounter with a nutcase.” 

He turns back to Andy, who has the beginnings of pity and anger on his face, and waves it off. “Guy just got a little handsy, a little rough, but it wasn’t even that bad. Just more a shock that guys are actually and truly that horrible, you know? Sometimes I wonder how women don’t all hate us.” 

Andy huffs a laugh, playing with his fork. “I wonder that myself, a lot, actually. I just...you know, I’d never have pegged you as a shifter, though, or particularly sensitive to women.”

“Why? Because I fuck a lot of them?” 

Andy half-smiles, tilts his head in acknowledgement. 

“The girls I bring home know what they’re getting from me. They’ll get a good time for an evening. Maybe I’ll date the occasional one, but when I pick up, it’s not like there’s any expectation of it going anywhere. And women enjoy sex as much as men, so why not? I try to not actively be a douche, but I’m not out to hold hands with some blushing virgin.” 

Tyler grins up at Andy, then. “Besides, I’m going to meet the woman of my dreams at Whole Foods.” 

“And she’ll never have a clue that you steal my pickup lines,” Andy says, laughing. He peers at Tyler, then gives in. “Okay, so the sex as a woman, what’s it like?” 

Tyler smiles. “It’s good, the orgasms kind of feel the same, you know? Only completely different, and there’s more of them in succession, which is cool. I don’t know, though, I’ve not really done much in that form. Never been fucked.” 

Andy raises his eyebrows. “Really? I’d have thought…”

“That I’d be a total ho, gagging for it?” Tyler grins. “I won’t risk my future ability to play hockey by accidentally getting knocked up. Besides, I prefer to be the one doing the fucking, multiple orgasms aside.” 

Andy nods. “I get that, I guess. It’s not like I have experience with any of it, either.” 

“What, never been pegged?” Tyler teases, and cracks up when Andy tries to cover how horrified the thought makes him. 

“So, your liberal punk hippie side has limits, then,” Tyler says. 

“Hey, I don’t judge others. I just don’t find things in my ass appealing,” Andy says. He gets a little more serious. “But hey, I’m proud of you, you know. You’ve handled this like a champ.” 

“Thanks,” Tyler says quietly, but it warms his heart to know that Andy’s got his back. 

“I mean it,” Andy says. “You’re smarter than you let people believe, kid.” 

“Yeah,” he says, and leaves it at that. 

****  
Not winning the Stanley Cup sucks, and while realistically, Tyler knows he can’t win it every year, it still hurts. Still, he goes home for the summer, and lives in Toronto with Brownie. Training with him is fun and Jesse’s around, and Tyler has Marshall, who is totally adorable and doesn’t have any expectations or thoughts about Tyler’s gender whatsoever. He’s happy as long as Tyler feeds him and takes him out for walks, loves to snuggle, and play, and that’s it, really. 

Being with Brownie and Blacker was easy, too. Blacker doesn’t know, but Brownie was there the first time Tyler shifted, and he was totally cool about it from the get-go. He was the one who calmed Tyler down and the only person on the Whalers he would let near him. Brownie was the one who sat in the room with him holding his hand and cracking jokes about their teammates while the trainers had a hurried discussion with the doctors and management was calling his parents and billet family. So he was there, and he has seen everything, Tyler at his worst. 

The only reference he ever makes is calling him the wifey in their Facebook relationship, but otherwise, he’s like the one person for whom Tyler’s genitalia has never once made him bat an eye. 

For whatever reason, they’ve never talked about it, though Tyler knows Brownie would listen and wouldn’t judge him, and he wouldn’t give a shit if Tyler shifted around him, but it’s not something Tyler feels compelled to push. It’s nice having a friend who knows, and who doesn’t make things complicated. 

Tyler doesn’t shift around them, anyway. He keeps the shifting to his own room, curled up with Marshall, or in the shower, and doesn’t feel the need to shift any more than that. 

Tyler and his agent have a plan in place, ready if the lockout happens, so when it does, Tyler signs with Biel. And while things still haven’t been resolved with Freddy, it seems like the tension is easing up between them. Tyler doesn’t know if it’s an accurate representation of Freddy’s state, but every time they Skyped or hung out over the summer, Freddy was in male form. Tyler hopes maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, for Freddy’s sake. 

Andy’s comment has been playing in Tyler’s mind ever since he made it. Yeah, Tyler is smarter than he lets on, and he’s loathe to admit it, but maybe that’s why he had so many issues with Freddy playing the dumb girl. He once heard in a movie or somewhere, that “we hate in other people the traits we hate in ourselves,” and Tyler thinks that there might be the slightest bit of accuracy there.

It’s not even that Tyler has set out to make people think he’s dumb; most people think dumb jock from the first time they see him. They treat him and all his friends the same, assume they’re all assholes. And Tyler’s not gonna lie, sometimes he is, and sometimes they are. His bros are all young, handsome and wealthy, ambitious and aggressive. What people don’t see is how hard they work, how their passion spills over from work into play, and vice versa. Tyler has no illusions that his life has been hard by any means; even with the “gift” of being a shifter, it’s not like he’s had to adjust all that much. 

But he does spend a lot of time feeling like a fraud. Yes, he worked hard and he has talent, but he’s also been extremely lucky, in many respects. He knows the weirdness that women go through, and he knows he sees just the tip of the iceberg on that, and he knows that guys like P.K and a few of the others have had to deal with a lot of racism and shit, but Tyler is afforded a lot of perks that just being rich and famous have bought for him that would never get handed to other people. 

Tyler wants to deserve them, but he’s also terrified that there will be a day they’ll be taken away. And Tyler knows he walks a precarious balance, because there aren’t females in the NHL. To be a shifter… well, he’s had a taste of how that goes, and he knows he’s damned lucky his team has been so open. 

So he hides behind the persona of a dumb jock, a meathead, and lets people underestimate him in everything but hockey, and while he might hate himself a little bit for it, he’ll pay that price to keep things under wraps and in his control as much as possible. 

Control. That’s the thing he hates about himself; his lack of impulse control and even, to some degree, the fact that, while he can control his shifts to a large degree, he can’t stop them completely. Mrs Nill once told him that if he didn’t control the shift, the shift would control him, and Tyler figures that was a good metaphor for life, too. 

He also knows it’s only a matter of time before word gets out. Not just because of his team; he trusts them to keep secrets, but the first time he shifted was in a locker room with the Whalers; at some point, someone’s going to say something and it will blow up. Tyler hopes it waits until he’s retired, at least, hell, hopes it never happens, but he’s gotta be realistic. The only secret that people will keep is the one that nobody knows. 

He thinks maybe Brownie has something to do with the fact that it hasn’t leaked yet from any of his teammates. He does remember that, in between learning how to control it, practices and games, Brownie was the one who was always there, sheltering him from the worst of the comments and rallying support. Tyler’s blocked out a lot about that time, but he knows Brownie had his back then as much as he does now. 

****

Tyler doesn’t even know what it was about Patrick; maybe the fact that this guy was so obviously torn up about the shit that went down in the offseason. The Blackhawks forgave him, stood by him to a man, he says, his team had his back, but he hates embarrassing them like that and hates embarrassing his family. His honesty is refreshing, and he’s far more serious than the media ever painted him, or even that Tyler ever realized in their brief encounters together. 

He’s just such a cool guy, and Tyler loves that Pat’s mom is there with him. He loves that Pat is so unabashedly a momma’s boy, and so openly adoring of his sisters. He’s also, surprisingly, a philosophical drunk. 

“I don’t know, man, I mean, I think we go off so young and like, we eat, sleep and breathe hockey, you know? But there’s so much uncertainty in all of it; it’s constantly a precarious balance. When we’re kids, it’s ‘will we have a good game? Will we score a goal?’ As we get older, the stakes just get higher. ‘Will that scout see me? Can I make a living from this? What if everyone else is better? Is it all worth it?’ And if you get injured, like, fuck, you know?”

Patrick turns over on his stomach, and looks down at Tyler. Tyler is lying on his back, beer dangling loosely from his fingers, and the couch is not the largest, so they’re kind of overlapping each other. Tyler’s okay with that; they aren’t cuddling exactly, but it’s the closest he’s come to having one of his bros there to lean against, and Tyler misses them. He misses being able to understand people speaking his language. 

“And then, people bitch about the money we get paid, and there’s a part of me that gets it, that we live these ridiculous lives. I drive a fucking ridiculous car, man. But I figure the money isn’t a reward for playing hockey well now, or at least, not all of it. It’s for playing well for so many years. It’s to buy my mom and dad and sisters all the stuff they want and need because they fucking sacrificed so much to get me where I could have this opportunity. It’s about giving up everything else; my sacrifices and yours, of growing up without our family surrounding us, of going to school dances and shit. And fuck, I did it then because I love this sport, and I do it now because I love this sport, but fuck if sometimes it doesn’t break my heart.” 

“We get paid the salaries we do because people are willing to pay to see us play,” Tyler says.  
“Not that all that much of revenue actually trickles down to us, even, in comparison to the owners and shit, but like, people want to see us play. It’s bigger than you and me, and even like, Crosby. People come to watch us play because they believe in us, believe it means something.”

“Exactly!” Kaner says, and Tyler grins up at him. Kaner has beer breath, which is not the greatest, but Tyler probably does too, and there are moments when Kaner smiles, like he is right now, that he’s even kind of pretty. Tyler reaches up and goofily pokes at the corner of Pat’s mouth. “From this angle, it looks like you’re frowning even though you’re smiling,” he says, and Pat dissolves into laughter, leaning his forehead onto Tyler’s. Tyler can feel the hard press of his skull against his own and it hurts a little, but it’s nice. He likes it. 

He’s not sure why, but he feels the urge to shift. He’s already shifted twice that week, brief moments at home in the evening, and one overnight in his bed, so it’s not an overwhelming need, and yet his instincts are hammering at him to do it. 

“Hey, don’t freak out, okay?” he manages to say, and then his body kind of shudders all over, and it almost feels like he’s shaking like Marshall does when he’s wet. 

He’s on his back and his t-shirt is thin, so there’s no hiding his tits and his smaller frame, but at first Kaner isn’t even looking at him. Tyler wonders if he could shift back quickly before Kane even notices, but he looks up, then, and it’s like his eyes just zero in on Tyler’s perky little missiles. 

“Um, Tyler, when’d you get those?” Kane asks, sitting up. 

“They come and go,” Tyler says. He sits up, too, and stares at Kaner warily. “Are you going to freak out?” 

“You’re a shifter? Shit, wow, I’ve never met one before that I know of, at least,” Kane says. “Whoa, you have tits! Can I touch them?” 

Tyler tries to scowl, but he can feel his laughter bubbling to the surface. “How would you feel if some guy asked your sisters that?” 

Kane scowls. “I’d have Duncs kill them.” 

Tyler laughs. “I love your honesty, there. You wouldn’t do it, you’d have Keith do it.” 

“He’s fucking scary, man. There’s a reason we call him Jigsaw, and it’s not because he does carpentry.” Kaner’s voice sounds normal, but he can’t keep his eyes off Tyler’s chest for long, though to his credit, he tries. It’s just that every time he tries to meet Tyler’s eyes, they end up darting back down to where Tyler’s nipples are poking out from the material. And it’s not that Tyler finds Kaner that attractive, really, but Kane does that thing where he licks his lips, and Tyler can’t help but think about how good it would feel to have that mouth on his tits. 

He’s a bit drunk and he’s thinking about what PR said, but it’s all kind of far away and Kane’s a bro, man. He’s not going to say shit. 

“I, shit,” Kane says, and pushes a hand through his hair. “Okay, so this is going to sound horrible, but I’ve always had like, a fantasy about fucking a shifter, okay? There’s this porn--” 

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Tyler says. “It’s cool, I get it.” He leans forward slowly. “I’ve never been fucked, though, and I don’t want to do that, but um, I really want your mouth.” 

Kane blinks, but then he starts grinning, really wide, his blue eyes finally able to focus on Tyler’s for any length of time. “Tits or dick, it doesn’t matter what you have, does it? You’re such a guy.” 

Tyler laughs, too. “Yeah, so get to it, yeah? And then you can rub one off on my tits.” 

Kane’s response is to surge forward and push Tyler backward, his hand going straight for the gaping waistband of Tyler’s pants. 

“Gonna eat you out so good, you’re going to love it,” Kane says, and kisses him. He’s good at kissing, almost surprisingly so, mostly because instead of being aggressive with his kisses, he’s almost a tease, lips moving slowly, little brushes against Tyler’s own, not going for the full tongue invasion. As they make out, he pushes the material of Tyler’s shirt up under his armpits, and sits back to stare at Tyler’s chest. 

“You make a pretty hot girl,” Kaner says. “It’s too bad you won’t let me fuck you in the ass. God, that’d feel amazing, you changing around me.” 

“It’s not that different,” Tyler says. “You can’t really tell the difference, at least not in that sense, an ass feels like an ass.” 

“Still, though,” Kane says, and his eyes glaze over for a moment before he registers the meaning behind Tyler’s words. “So wait, you’ve done it with another shifter? Fuck me.” 

“I could be persuaded to do that,” Tyler says and grins at Kane’s widening eyes. “Does that turn you on?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Kane says, and swoops down to kiss Tyler again, hands zeroing in on his nipples. “Fuck.” 

Kane is surprisingly good with his mouth, but he’s even better with his hands, and he takes Tyler apart, inch by inch. Tyler knows he shifts at least twice, flickering in and out a little bit, and Kane groans when he does. He loses track of everything but the sensations of Pat licking into him, one thumb rubbing his clit, the other arm outstretched, his hand on Tyler’s breast. Tyler is so lost in the sensation that he can’t bring himself to protest when Kane moves his mouth lower, so that he’s licking around, tentative at first, and then, confidence increasing, pressing his tongue into Tyler’s ass. The sensation isn’t, objectively speaking, all that overwhelming, but the imagery is, and Tyler comes hard, squirming against Pat’s face. 

“You liked that, huh?” Kane says, and fuck he’s sleazy, but Tyler can’t bring himself to care.

Kane nudges him over and Tyler obliges, shifts as he does so, and Kane huffs a laugh. “Your ass, man.” He presses the hard line of his cock between Tyler’s cheeks so the shaft rubs betwen his crack. “Is this okay, like this?” 

Tyler grinds his ass up against him in response, and Kane groans, pressing down. He’s feeling sex dumb and sleepy, so he doesn’t mind Kaner using his ass to get off on, but Kane says after a few minutes, “Hey, you promised me I could come on your tits.” 

“Get up then, let me turn over,” and Kane pushes off with a sigh. Tyler has to concentrate a little, but he shifts back and turns over, and let’s Kane straddle his waist as he jerks off. Tyler licks his lips and slides his hand under Kaner’s, rolling his balls between fingers and palm. Kaner heaves another full groan and comes, the first spurt missing Tyler’s chest and hitting him in the chin, but oh well, close enough. 

They both collapse on the couch, until a little while later, Tyler feels Kaner stir, fixing his clothes. “I’m going to head back to mine,” Kaner says, coming into Tyler’s sight with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“I’m all messy,” Tyler complains sleepily, and Kaner laughs. “Yeah, it’s a good look on you, buddy. Goodnight.” 

“‘Night,” Tyler says, and drifts off to sleep, still sticky. 

****

If Tyler had any worries about how Kaner would be the next day, Kaner lays them to rest pretty quickly. He doesn’t say a word about the night, or make even the slightest bit of innuendo about Tyler’s shapeshifting, and things are pretty easy between them, same as they have been from the beginning. 

They fool around a few more times. Tyler knows that Kane has a girlfriend and that he loves her, but they apparently have a long distance clause. It hasn’t always worked out to their favor, but they’re working through it, and Kane seems to really love Tyler’s ass, which is just as full and firm in female form as it is in male form. 

“A bit less hairy,” Kaner says, and Tyler would make a comment about that, but he’s too busy moaning as Kaner rims him. 

“God, I want to fuck you,” Kane says one night right before Christmas. He says it every time, but not in a demanding way, just stating the obvious. He’s been fine with oral and jerking off, but he’s got Tyler worked over enough that he wants to try it, so he says, “Yeah, okay, but only my ass. No baby making.” 

Kane makes a horrified sort of noise, but he’s rolling off Tyler and stretching out to his bedside table for condoms and lube, anyway. 

It’s such a weird feeling, a full one, and like, completely foreign, but just the sheer idea that he’s getting fucked, that his ass is stretched wide and tight over Kaner’s dick is so overwhelming that Tyler comes anyway. It’s a lot of work though, and afterwards, his ass feels funny, so he doesn’t think he’ll do it that often.

He’s sort of mindblown afterwards, lying there awake while Kaner snuffles a little bit next to him. He thinks maybe it’s because he’s in girl form, all the hormones, so he switches back, but he’s still kind of weird in the head about it. It’s not bad, just...weird. He just let down one of his own barriers, and Kaner’s a bro, but they don’t have the history that he and Freddy have, or anything like that. 

They go home for Christmas, and afterwards, Tyler decides he misses his family too much to stay the full year in Biel; he’s also heard rumors that the agreement is coming soon, and so he decides after the Spengler Cup to go home, regardless. 

Kaner brings his girlfriend back with him, so he’s not as available for hanging out, and Tyler feels a touch uncomfortable about being in the same proximity as her, considering. He isn’t judging Kaner or anything, but it’s obvious the two of them are really into each other, so Tyler doesn’t care; he’s just glad that Kaner seems happier.

All in all, while it’s a bit depressing not to be playing in the NHL and being that far away from family and friends, it’s pretty calm, and Tyler’s good with that. 

And then, the lockout ends, and with it comes the shitstorm that almost threatens to end Tyler’s career. 

****  
Tyler knows that, for better or worse, the Bruins management don’t like his partying. It doesn’t matter that he’s their lead scorer, he doesn’t fit their overall profile of the blue collar hero type: hard working, self-sacrificing teammate and family man. Even Marchy’s settled down with a girl, so he’s not really there to hang out with as much. And that’s fine, because Tyler sees his teammates a lot and likes them, but he doesn’t think it means he has to hang out with all of them all the time.

He also suspects that it’s less about his partying, and more about the possibility that he could get knocked up. They have no idea how unlikely that is, despite Tyler’s reassurances, because they just don’t trust him. And that sucks, because he’s never done anything to earn that distrust, he doesn’t think, aside from being twenty years old and a shifter.  
He keeps his shit on the down low, and for the most part it’s fine, except somehow, he gets caught in Toronto after curfew and there’s the bullshit article about him having left behind a mess in Biel, and the thing is, neither of those things were actually accurate, not entirely. 

The thing is, Tyler misses curfew for a good reason. On the surface, it looked like he was out drinking with buddies, but that wasn’t it--he had one beer because he’s not fucking stupid, he’s not going to put his career on the line. Any of his other teammates and they’d look the other way; hell, so many of them have sneaked in after a fucking hook up or whatever that it’s ridiculous, but he’s out trying to support one of his best friends who’s in the fucking hospital and then just trying to lend an ear to another friend who had to let loose some steam. Tyler’s just trying to be a good friend while he’s actually there to do it, and he gets fucking punished for it. 

The road to hell, his mother says, and shit, Tyler knows all about that.

Playoffs are shitty and he’s working his ass off but he can’t score a fucking goal, and the season ends with a heartbreak--fucking Kaner, too, but Tyler can’t be too mad at him, since at least he wasn’t the one who scored in 17 seconds or anything. Tyler’s ready to mourn the season and put it behind him, he says his goodbyes to the team as is, knowing it won’t be the same in 2013/14 -- it never is, after all, and some of these guys will be his teammates no more. 

He makes the mistake of tweeting “No homo” and he honestly didn’t know, so when he talks to Burke, they have a great conversation, and he apologizes. The PR lady shoots him a dark look when they talk about cleaning up his mess, and Tyler apologizes to her as well, knowing this adds to her perception of him being a fuck up. 

Then his phone gets hacked, and that sucks, and he’s having a party -- it’s the post-season, so what? And he gets hacked again. 

He’s a Bruin no more. 

***  
Everyone knows trades happen; hell, that’s why there’s limited trade clauses and stuff. It’s not that Tyler didn’t know he could be traded; it’s just that he’d thought he was settled in there. 

It’s a shock, and it’s not an entirely happy situation; he’s a little bit bitter, no lie, because they don’t want him, despite what he’s tried to give them. And he knows, knows exactly why he was traded, and it has nothing to do with the hacking of his phone or anything like that, it has everything to do with the fact that sometimes, he has the wrong kind of genitalia and that freaks the powers that be out. 

But it’s also not as devastating as it could have been, either. Pevs is part of the trade, and Jim Nill is good news. The fact that he specifically wanted Tyler means that someone wants him that knows what he is and is perfectly fine with it.

He also has a chance to start fresh, and that’s kind of looking nice after the last season. He’s got a chance to actually make a difference, a name for himself, too, as a star (heh, literally) player rather than 3rd line depth for a team filled with star players already. 

His teammates (former, at least) are actually pretty torn up and they offer a lot of support, but the fact that Ferry is going to be gone and Horty’s not resigning voluntarily takes a bit of the sting out, too. “It’s the tattoos,” Horty says, smiling that big smile of his and pulling Tyler in tight for a hug. “The three of us, we’re rebels, baby.” He pulls back, a bit more serious. “But you and me, especially, we’re going to do great things for our new teams. You’ll see.” 

Tyler has met Jamie Benn a couple times here and there; he’s not a complete unknown, and he’d seemed pretty cool the few times they’d chatted. They were on the All-Star team together and that was fun. Still, he’s now completely invested in learning as much as he can about his new liney, so he requests tape to study his style. Jim thinks Tyler should go back to being center and Jamie should go back to playing wing, and Tyler is nervous, but cautiously excited. Jamie’s a powerful player, and he’s big and fierce; Tyler thinks that could work well in contrast to his own speed and playmaking abilities. 

The few interviews and footage he sees with Jamie, he seems quiet, but even there, you can see that it’s not for lack of confidence in himself, at least not on the ice. Tyler finds that intriguing. 

Tyler knew damned well that he wouldn’t be going to the Olympics orientation; he’s not even particularly upset about it, but he’s upset on Jamie’s behalf. They’ve been texting a bit, and Tyler knows, though no one has said anything, that Jamie is going to be named captain of the team. It’s pretty much an open secret, so unless something drastic changes, the team’s hopes are being pinned on the two of them to carry the rest of them to the playoffs, and they’re going to be expected to get along. Tyler wants to live up to -- no, he wants to exceed their expectations of him. 

So far, that’s proving pretty easy. He texts Jamie, “Let’s prove them wrong.” 

Jamie is on board with that, and he laughs later, when Tyler sends him dumb lyrics in another text message, sends back some of his own, and a smiley face emoticon. 

Yeah, Tyler thinks. We’ll prove them wrong. 

***  
Dallas is hot and it’s not Boston. That’s...not as bad as everyone else seems to think. 

Tyler has spent the summer talking to the Stars organization, and this is a fresh start, a chance for not just him, but for them all as a whole to get a chance to shine and find a place to fit in. He’s nervous, yes, but the Stars seem to genuinely want him, Ruff a bit more reserved on the phone, but sounding pleased by Tyler’s request for tape of Benn playing as well as their discussions on his style of play. Tyler says that he’s worried about faceoffs, and they talk about that, the kinds of things Tyler can do to train for them. He thanks Tyler for his honesty at the end of the call, and Tyler heads to the gym with a smile on his face. 

Jim knows about Tyler’s shifting, obviously, and Tyler asks him if this is something that Lindy and the others know. 

“It’s up to you who you want to tell. Obviously, it’s part of your medical records, but beyond that, if you don’t want to say anything, we won’t.” 

“There was an incident in Boston,” Tyler says, and tells him about the team finding out. “So, at this point, even though I trust those guys to not be assholes…”

“...realistically, there’s a decent chance word will get around the locker rooms, at least,” Jim finishes. “Locker rooms are a funny thing; we gossip amongst ourselves like it’s a high school clique, but it stays in the rooms for the most part.” 

“Yeah, you never know when that guy is going to become a teammate,” Tyler says. “Trades happen every year, we all know that.” 

“And everyone has played with or against everyone else to some degree or another, whether for team Canada or in juniors or college.”

“I could name five gay players on five different teams,” Tyler says. “And twice as many that wouldn’t call themselves gay, but certainly aren’t models of straight and narrow. And I’ve only been on two teams in the NHL, and I haven’t even been in the locker room with everybody on this team yet.” 

“And yet no one on the outside knows about those players,” Jim finishes. “So where does that put your concerns about being gender-plus?” 

“It’s a little bit different, in the sense that it’s not about whether or not I like dick, but whether or not I have one,” Tyler says.

“Crudely stated, but accurate,” Jim allows. 

“I think the reaction I have had, though, from teammates and the few people who know, has been largely positive. But it hasn’t been with PR for the Bruins, and I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes here that I did there. My teammates know -- or will, soon-- what I can do on the ice, and that’s why I’m here. If and when I tell them, I don’t want to do it formally, not make it a big deal. Maybe once we get into the season and get comfortable with each other, I’ll talk to people as it comes up.” 

Jim nods. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Tyler likes the Benn brothers. They’re hilarious and immediately fold him within their group. Jordie is a bit older, still living with his brother and the bachelor life, but he’s got a girl he’s been with for a while, and he’s starting to get that settled down vibe happening. Jamie is weirdly mature and quiet, but both of them are unabashedly goofy and clearly close, which makes Tyler a bit envious; he loves his sisters but he hasn’t actually grown up with them the same way the Benns have with each other. 

He decides to tell Jamie and Jordie almost immediately and together; he waits until after dinner but before they clear the dishes. 

“Hey, so,” he says, and thinks, fuck it, and shifts. “So, sometimes I’m a girl?” 

They gape, both of them with their mouths slightly open. Jordie even squeaks a bit. 

“I’m a shifter and I have control over it, it’s not something to worry about on ice,” Tyler says. “Or out in public. But I thought you all should know.” 

They’re still gaping at him, and it’s highly uncomfortable, but Tyler figures he should just let them work through it. 

“Oh man, how do you even leave the house?” Jordie asks. “I would never get over playing with my own tits.” 

“Yeah, it’s not quite as much fun when it’s solo,” Tyler says. 

“What’s it like? Like, sex as a girl? Do orgasms feel the same?” 

Tyler laughs and shrugs, tries to answer Jordie’s questions as best he can. “It’s hard to describe. Like, there’s parts that feel kind of the same, like the way it builds up, and my clit kind of has the same kind of sensitivity as my dick, but not really the same feeling at all. It feels good,” Tyler says. “Sometimes maybe even better, in some ways.” 

Jamie has said nothing, just maintained a wide-eyed, glassy stare at Tyler, eyes flicking from his face to his chest, and if Tyler weren’t sitting across from him, he has a feeling Jamie would be staring at his crotch, too. 

“Jamie, are you okay?” Jordie asks. 

“I-” he licks his lips, and Tyler blinks. 

“Oh jeez,” Jordie says and just starts laughing, falling against the back of his chair, in pure hysterics. 

Tyler keeps looking from Jamie to Jordie because he thinks he gets it, but he’s not sure what is so hilarious, exactly. Meanwhile, Jamie snaps out of his daze and pushes back from the table with a glare at his brother. He takes the plates and starts stacking them to take into the kitchen. 

“Thank you for telling us, Tyler,” he says, oddly formal, but no less sincere. He meets Tyler’s eyes doggedly. “It was really brave of you.” 

Tyler smiles at him. “The guys in Boston know, and I felt like you should, too. I don’t want to make a big deal of it, or anything, I’ll tell the others as I’m ready, but.” 

“Yeah, yeah, just let me know if you need me to help out, or like, moral support,” Jamie says and takes their plates into the kitchen. 

Jordie is still chuckling to himself, watching the exchange. “That’s why he’s gonna be captain,” he says. “So sweet and earnest.” 

Tyler grins at him. 

“So what’s it like being fucked?” Jordie asks loudly, eyes twinkling. He leans forward. “As a girl, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” Tyler says. “I haven’t tried it.” 

“Why not?” Jordie asks. “It’s the first thing I’d do.” 

“Because birth control doesn’t work and I’m not willing to risk being stuck as a woman,” Tyler says. “I’m more flexible than most people, I suppose, but I’m a guy and the prospect of losing hockey, or of getting pregnant does not appeal.” 

“But that’s what condoms are for,” Jordie says. 

Tyler shakes his head. “I haven’t met anyone worth that risk.” 

****  
Jim invites him, Jamie and Lindy over for dinner when Tyler indicates he wants to tell his coach. They grill out on the deck of the Nills’ new home, though Bekki is still in Detroit. Tyler still has a soft spot for her and he sends his regards through Jim. They sit down with steaks and beers, and like with the Benns, Tyler waits until after dinner to say anything. 

He doesn’t turn, however, and Lindy looks surprised, but not especially ruffled by it. “You have it under control? It’s not something that will happen on ice?” 

“No,” Tyler says. “It should be fine.” 

He meets Tyler’s eyes. “Then it’s no skin off my nose. Thank you for telling me, but unless it affects you on ice, or in the locker room with the team, then it doesn’t affect the way I see you.” 

Tyler smiles, wide and relieved. 

“I’m not gonna lie, though, it could affect how some of your teammates view you. If you have a problem with any of them, let me and the other coaches know, and we’ll address it.” 

“Thanks,” Tyler says after a moment. For a moment, he’d been thinking Lindy was going to tell him not to say anything, but he’s being supportive. 

He meets Jamie’s eyes and he’s smiling, too.

“I think between us, we’ve got this,” Jim says, and offers up a toast. “To the new star rising.” 

Tyler reaches in to clank his bottles to the others, and there’s still a lot of work to be done, but he thinks that it’s all going better than he could have hoped. 

Jamie seems to agree, because he says, “We’re going to be amazing.” 

***  
They are amazing. Granted, they aren’t pulling off a Blackhawks kind of streak by any means, but they’re working hard and it shows. There are moments where they struggle and lose games they shouldn’t, but there are moments of brilliance, and every time Tyler scores a goal or racks up an assist that magical feeling is reinforced. He and Jamie are have the kind of chemistry that everyone hopes for when they grow up playing hockey. Tyler’s faceoffs improve slowly but steadily, and the game against Boston turns out pretty awesome. It’s a win for him, and with he and Pevs getting the shootout goals, well, it’s not that he wants to rub it into his former teammates’ faces, but he does want to rub it into the fans’ faces a little bit. They can boo all they want, Tyler don’t care. 

Actually, being booed at in the Gardens is actually a little bit fun. He likes that he’s having an effect. 

He bonds with his team, too, not just with the Benns, but with Eaks and Nauts and Chaser and Dills especially. They’re a team of young guys with a mixture of veterans, so there are people to hang out with, and Dallas isn’t a hockey town, so there’s not the kind of media spotlight on him as there was in Boston. And the girls are pretty high quality; physically, at least, they blow the Boston girls away. 

The girls don’t really care about hockey, but they do care about money. Dallas is a money town, with a lot of the women looking for rich husbands. It’s a bit more obvious and skewed than it was in Boston, where the girls wanted a guy with money, but many of them were pursuing college or careers of their own; here, there’s a bit more of an old-fashioned vibe to it. 

It’s not bad per se, but it does leave Tyler feeling a bit cynical. It’s not like he’s been previously unaware of what makes him attractive, and it’s not just his abs, but the girls here are blatant with the dollar signs in their eyes. 

He hangs out with Ali a bit and then they part amicably. She’s hot, she’s fun, but she’s not his type. And there are plenty of girls to take home; he’s not hurting there, but he just doesn’t feel like it as much. He’d rather hang out with the guys and Marshall most of the time, to be honest. 

Nishky is struggling a little bit because of his language barrier, and Tyler knows how that feels, so he makes an effort to include him in things and make him feel welcome. He remembers what it was like in Biel, to be one of only a couple English speakers on the team, feeling homesick for family and friends. He’s not sure how well he does, but they go out for dinner occasionally, Tyler helping him learn to order food approved by their nutritionists, and it’s all good. 

He also meets up with Kaner when they come into play; he ends up taking Kaner back to his and this time, Tyler fucks Kaner. He’s a good lay, and it’s nice, too, that Kaner only waits a little while before he says, “I have to get back, call me a cab?” 

Tyler doesn’t make the easy crack because he knows that Kaner is trying to live down his past, and Tyler of all people understands that. 

More and more, Tyler finds his thoughts turning to Jamie. 

That’s dangerous for a lot of reasons, and Tyler knows better than to go there, but he can’t help it. 

Jamie doesn’t mind that Tyler is sometimes a girl, and after his initial reaction, he doesn’t really treat him any differently. He’s been quietly supportive as Tyler has puzzled through who to tell and when, and so far, other than the Benns, Lindy and Jim, and Pevs of course, the rest are still in the dark. Tyler hasn’t shifted around any of them but he doesn’t feel any pressure not to, either. 

Jordie has invited over some of the guys he played with in the AHL, Eaks and Dills and Chaser for dinner, and Tyler hadn’t really thought about it, but he decides to tell them that night. Chaser is and Eaks are quietly freaking out, but not in a bad way, more that they’re really curious and trying to figure out how they should react and what questions would be okay. Dills is silent, methodically spooning ice cream into his mouth. 

“You okay there?” Jordie asks Dills quietly, and Dills nods. “My cousin’s a shifter, no big.” 

And that’s how it goes, really. Nishky is the only one who really freaks out, and he’s not mean about it. Tyler thinks it’s more because of the language barrier than anything, and the whole climate in Russia, but overall, even then he just shrugs and says, “You still play hockey, you still Tyler, no problem” and that’s the extent of it. 

But there are downsides, too, and for every goal and every win, there’s a struggle happening. In many ways, Tyler is settling into a team and a town that is far from the close-minded experience he was expecting and he feels like he’s settling into his own skin as well. With it, his need to shift seems to be coming less and less, something the doctors have said can be normal, though they said it can also come in waves. On the other hand, his relationships are changing, many for the better, some struggling with the pressures of distance. 

Fred’s visit starts off great, but he spends a fair bit of it in female form. That wouldn’t bother Tyler; in fact, it’s nice that he can spend some time sporting his own breasts and vag and they can be kind of girly together. But Tyler is just switching back to male form when Jamie lets himself into the apartment, followed by Jordie. They stop and greet Marshall with head scratches and “good boys” in goofy voices that everyone makes around Marshall because he’s that freakin’ adorable, and then head in to the living room. Tyler makes the introductions, but something feels off almost immediately; something about the way that Freddy is eyeing Jamie; it grates. 

“I mentioned Freddy’s going to be in town,” Tyler said, sort of babbling, “She’s just in for a long weekend.” 

Freddy’s head snaps up, nose wrinkling, and Jamie looks askance. Tyler’s immediately conscious of the error. “He, sorry man, don’t know what happened there,” and Freddy shrugs, but the pronoun slip lays between them, heavy even in the midst of Jordie plowing through and talking up a storm about where they’re going to go for the evening. 

“I’m going to go change,” Tyler says, and leaves them to chat while he throws on a nicer button down shirt and the jeans that show off his ass. He briefly thinks about throwing on some eyeliner; it’s something he’s done on rare occasions, dotting a bit of brown between the lashes to make them look darker. It’s not something people notice, just a little enhancement. It’s not something he’s done since Boston, though, and even then, only in female form. 

And then he wonders if he’s crazy, because he’s actually thinking about going out wearing eyeliner, and he’s recognizable, there will be selfies and shit, no doubt, so fuck no, it’s not an option. 

He does wash his face, some deodorant and a splash of cologne, and he’s ready to go. When he heads back out to his living room, Jordie is looking on, bemused, as Jamie and Freddy chat, and Tyler stops dead, because they aren’t just chatting, Jamie’s got what little game he has going. Tyler wants to blurt out, “That’s Freddy, he’s a guy!” but Jamie already knows that. 

They do, predictably, take a few pictures, and Brownie responds back to one of them, an emoticon that’s supposed to be a wolf whistle at the picture of Freddy. Freddy laughs when he interrupts whatever story he’s telling Jamie to show him, and shoots a coy look at Jamie from under his lashes. 

Tyler grits his teeth and shakes himself, and then decides to chat with Jordie instead. 

Jamie and Jordie go their separate ways after dinner, but not before Freddy is saying, “We should get a drink, later,” and Jamie is nodding. 

It’s obvious that Freddy was not including Jordie or Tyler to this drink, and sometimes, Freddy’s diva bullshit just gets to Tyler, okay? Because that’s what it is, he’s sulking over the pronoun slip and basically ignoring Tyler, the same way he sulked and ignored Tyler after he got traded to Dallas. 

But Tyler also knows that telling Freddy he’s being stupid is not going to help, and neither is apologizing for the pronoun blunder. It will just make Freddy get even more pissy; Tyler knows from experience. 

Even with him sulking a bit, neither one of them is willing to let the evening go to waste; they don’t get to spend enough time together anymore, so they still have a good time at the arcade and Tyler beats the snot out of Freddy’s totals. 

“I have a girlfriend,” Freddy says, and Tyler says, “Yeah, what’s she like?” even though he already knows a little, because he’s seen the pictures and the snapchats, and all. 

Freddy talks about the girl, how smart and pretty she is. He also mentions that Brownie is single again, which Tyler also knew, but it’s nice to just gossip, reestablish familiar patterns. 

But then Freddy says, “You and Brownie…” 

At first Tyler thinks he’s just gathering his thoughts, but he’s looking at Tyler like he thinks Tyler should get it. 

“...are friends?” Tyler says, raising his eyebrow. 

“You know he’s had a thing for you for years, since Whalers days,” Freddy says. 

Tyler shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. Never has been, never will be.” 

“It is like that, though,” Freddy insists. 

And it’s blatantly wrong, Tyler knows this because he and Brownie would never work in that way. He knows Brownie is attractive; his entire harem is attractive, but that doesn’t mean he wants to fuck him. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not fucking all my friends,” Tyler says, trying to keep it light. 

“What about Jamie?” Freddy asks. “Are you fucking him?”

“If I was, you hanging all over him tonight would be a real shit move,” Tyler points out. 

Freddy just smirks. “Jealous?” 

Tyler shakes his head. “No. Because in two days’ time, you’re going back to Boston to your girlfriend and Jamie will be here. Everybody needs a little holiday fuck, right?” 

“And I’ll have banged him, and you’ll, what, pursue my sloppy seconds?” 

“No, I’ll be laughing at him for banging my sloppy seconds,” Tyler says, standing up. He keeps his voice steady, pleasant even, like this is just an amusing little chirping session. “You probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.” 

And when they get back, Tyler pushes both floors in the elevator, smiles real sweetly and says, “Go get ‘im, Tiger,” and gets out before Freddy says anything else. He calls up a girl he’s been texting with, tells her to catch a cab over, tells her what to wear-- or rather, what not to wear-- and grabs himself a beer, sitting back with Marshall to wait. She takes a stupidly long time to get there, but it’s not like Tyler really cares. He fucks her there on the couch, not even bothering to remove her dress, just pulling it down to nestle under her tits and hiking it up so she can ride his dick. 

Marshall whines at the door at some point during it, but it’s right as the girl is about to get off, bouncing up and down with these short little “uh uh uh” noises. It’s not really hot, but Tyler doesn’t care. He gets off, peels her, then the condom, off and after a minute, pulls up his pants and reaches for his phone. “I’ll call you a cab,” he says, and she looks slightly pissed, but nods. 

He grabs Marshall’s leash and the poop baggie when she is finished cleaning up in the bathroom and walks her down to wait, not so much to be gentlemanly, but so that he can take Marshall for a quick walk. 

Freddy comes back the next morning looking all rumpled and well-used, but he’s restless, fiddling with his phone and not meeting Tyler’s eyes. “Uh, I guess you had someone over last night?” 

Tyler nods. “Yeah, why?” 

“We came down to see if you wanted a drink, and we heard her. Walls are thin in this place,” Freddy says. 

“Yeah, she was a screamer,” Tyler says, and flushes. “Pretty hot girl.” 

At practice, Jamie isn’t looking at him too much, either, being extra quiet and mumbly. Jordie is laughing at some story Dills is telling, but he keeps looking over at them both, shaking his head. 

Pevs asks Tyler if he wants to go to lunch, and despite Freddy being at home, Tyler says yes. 

“What about Freddy?” Jamie asks. 

Tyler shrugs. “He said something about seeing if you wanted lunch after.” 

Jamie’s brow furrows a bit, but he doesn’t say anything else, just finishes taking off his padding. He has to talk to the media, and for once, Tyler doesn’t, so he and Pevs escape for a bit of bonding time before Pevs heads back home to his wife for a nap. 

He and Pevs are both still in contact with their former teammates, and they compare notes, gossiping about various things. Pevs asks Tyler if he’s watching Behind the Bruins, and Tyler shakes his head no. “I reckon I already know what they said about me.” 

“They did you a favor,” Pevs says with some heat. “Me, I’m the same either way, maybe someone to offload thanks to my heart issue, but whether they see it or not, they did you a favor, because you have the chance to be the fucking hockey golden boy down here, and be yourself, while you’re at it.” 

Segs nods. “I know. Trust me, I know. I wasn’t lying about wanting to be where I’m wanted, and Boston was my home for three years, but Dallas is going to be home for a lot more.” 

“Good,” Pevs says. “God willing, me too.” 

When Pevs drops him off, Freddy and Marshall are nowhere to be found, so Tyler heads into the kitchen to put the to-go box away (it’s not leftovers; he cleans his plate like a good boy, but he’d gotten an additional meal for Freddy, just in case), and then heads to his room for a nap. He has a game that night, and he needs to nap before he rolls in. 

He doesn’t hear them come in, but they’re back when he wakes up, and Freddy is getting ready to go, grabbing his shoes. The only problem is that he’s still in female form.

“People are going to see you with me, and they’re going to think you’re my girlfriend,” Tyler says. “And while I don’t much care what people say about me and the girls I’m with, you’re risking being exposed as a shifter if people put two and two together. Do you want that?”

Freddy blinks, then shivers, and shifts into male form. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize,” he says. “I’ve spent a lot of time as female, lately.” 

“I know,” Tyler says. “And that’s fine, but maybe just think about what you want people to know, so you can control your narrative.” 

Freddy snorts. “Total PR speak, right there.” 

“But not inaccurate,” Tyler says. He glances to the side as they walk out to the elevators. “You know I’ve got your back, right? You come out as a shifter, and I’ll support you. I can’t make that same call, not right now, but I’ll stand by you if that’s what you want. Just...think about it first, about why you want it, and what you’ll be risking.” 

They run into Jamie and Freddy in the parking garage, and Freddy tenses up a little. 

“Everything okay?” Tyler asks, low. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Freddy says, but Tyler notices Jamie is looking a bit weird, too. 

Jamie and Jordie wave as they head to the truck, but Tyler waves them off. “We might grab a bite after the game,” he says, and Jamie nods. 

They hop in Tyler’s ride, and honestly, Tyler likes being able to control that, too. He likes driving, and Freddy plays with the radio, but he settles on music he knows Tyler will like. 

“Okay, so spill. Why so awkward with Jamie?” Tyler asks. “I’ve seen you hook up before, and you’ve never acted all freaked out after.” 

“It’s… it’s not really my story to tell,” Freddie says, and changes the subject. “So I know this freaked you out last night, and I’m not pushing, I’m just kind of surprised. So you and Brownie really have never?” 

“No,” Tyler says. “What’s brought this on?” 

“Just something Blacker said, I don’t know.” At Tyler’s look, he shakes his head. “Not like, about you guys specifically, I don’t think Blacker thinks that, or anything, just he said something that made me think about friendships and how they can evolve, and I don’t know. There was even going to be a song in there at one point. Again, not about you and Brownie specifically, just in general.” 

It really doesn’t make sense to Tyler, but he just shrugs. “Okay.”

“What about Blacker, then?” Freddy asks. “You ever been with him?” 

“Blacker doesn’t even know I shift, I don’t think,” Tyler says.

“No, um, he knows. He said he figured it out after he saw me change, and then just, I guess some stuff made more sense. I didn’t like, out you, but I didn’t deny, either.” 

Tyler breathes heavily through his nose, and tries to process that. It’s not like Blacker is going to say anything, he doesn’t think, and a lot of people know now, so why freak out? 

“I don’t know if I’m relieved or freaked out,” Tyler admits. 

The game goes well, and Jamie seems fine, back to normal in the locker room, so Tyler figures whatever it is, is between him and Freddy. He’s not thrilled with the turn of events, but he’s not going to interfere. Freddy said it wasn’t his thing to tell, and Tyler’s surprisingly okay with that. 

***  
Freddy’s weirdness aside, all is going great, even with Tyler being out a few games. It gives him time to spend with his family before Christmas, which is nice, even if he’d rather be playing. And he’s proud of his boys, especially Jamie, for getting named as an Olympian; Tyler’s jealous but he knew he had just about no chance of getting picked and mostly, that’s a twinge that happens under genuine happiness for them. Reputation aside, he mostly wants to focus on redeeming himself as a player and getting this team into the playoffs. 

So he recovers nicely and heads back, practicing with the team and joking, and gets ready for his next game. 

Tyler can feel him as soon as he steps in the tunnel before warmups. There’s a shifter there, not a regular because this is the first time in the AAC that he’s felt anyone like him. The guy is reeking of testosterone, too, so Tyler’s a little flipped out that it’s another one of those kinds of guys. He does his best not to look, hoping against hope that if he stays within the knot of his team, it’ll be hard to pick him out specifically, but then figures that’s not only ridiculous, but kind of cowardly, and Tyler is many things, but he’s not a coward. He’s a little quiet through warmup, and Jamie finally asks him, “hey, what’s up, Seggy?” 

“There’s a shifter in the audience, and he’s a fucking ape,” Tyler says, leaning in so only they can be heard.

“What do you mean?” Jamie asks. He starts to look up and Tyler has to tug his arm to pull him down again. 

“Shifters can feel each other, I don’t know why, but we just know when there’s another around,” Tyler says. “And some of them, the male ones, have this like, uber macho thing happening, where they’ll refuse to shift, and the testosterone builds up. It’s um… they’re not pleasant guys to be around.”

“You think he could be a danger?” Jamie asks, eyes sharpening.

Tyler hesitates, and that’s all Jamie needs to hear. He says, “You’ll be with us through the game, and after, so we won’t let you get close. Can you tell us where he is?” 

Tyler makes a point of looking around the arena stands, smiling at a pretty girl nearby, but he can already tell Jamie, “Behind the visitor’s side penalty box, about halfway up, more or less. White t-shirt, buzzed head.” 

Jamie also smiles at the girl and looks around, then slowly scans over the hockey row, skating a lazy circle and smiling like Tyler’s saying something hilarious. 

“Jesus, you’re not kidding, he’s a gorilla,” Jamie says. “Should we say something to security?” 

“We don’t really have a good cause,” Tyler says. He shrugs. “Let’s just leave it for now, and figure out what to do later.”

Tyler manages to put the guy out of his mind and concentrate on the game, but he can feel him staring every time there’s a break in play or he’s on the bench. Finally, when he can’t avoid it any more, he looks up and makes eye contact, but doesn’t acknowledge the guy in any other way. 

Jamie must have said something to Jordie and Dills, because they crowd close in as they’re walking back to the dressing room between periods. 

“How do you know this guy’s a threat?” Dills asks, low. 

“Long story,” Tyler says on a sigh. 

“He’s not a stalker, is he?” 

“No, likely he’s as surprised as I am,” Tyler says. “But guys who don’t shift, they get weird.”

“If you didn’t shift, would you get like that?” Jordie asks. 

Tyler nods. “It’s not pretty, either physically, or mentally or emotionally. It’s like they just get angry and unstable, so that everything is an affront to their manhood or some shit.” 

“And the shifters that do shift are an insult?”

“We’re weak,” Tyler says, and then he’s done talking while Ruff goes over the next plays and what he wants to see out there. 

Nothing happens that night, but the guy is back and the next night, as they’re leaving well after everybody in the audience should be gone, he can feel him, a flash as the truck pulls out of the lot and into the street. 

Tyler tenses and looks out the window, sees the guy stare at their truck and plate, and swears. 

“That was him, wasn’t it?” 

Tyler sighs and nods. 

“I think we need to warn the rest of the team.” 

They don’t tell everyone everything; hell, not even Jamie knows everything because to tell him how he knows that guy is bad news is to tell about what happened in Boston, and Tyler has very carefully buried that in the past. Pevs was there in Boston and knows at least the bare bones, so he looks at Tyler and nods. “We all got your back,” he says. 

And that’s all well and good, except everyone is preparing for the Olympics, whether it be going to Sochi, or going on a vacation. 

It’s not that the guy’s presence gets lost in the shuffle; Tyler can feel him at every home game and open practice in December and January. He’s pretty sure he tries to follow him a couple times, getting flashes of that feeling even in his car at stop lights. But for the most part, he’s always with someone, and the guy keeps his distance. Tyler knows he’s biding his time and the thought stresses him out, but he tries not to let it affect him too much. 

It’s why the Olympics break is going to be a nice relief, honestly. He’s going to be away at Cabo, on vacation with his buddies, and it’ll be two weeks away from that asshole, and a chance to rest his hip, which is always good, and just relax. 

Jamie is stressing out hardcore, and ends up dividing his time between packing and dealing with all that stuff, and sitting on Segs’ couch cuddling Marshall. He doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it, so Segs just lets them be; Marshall is great stress therapy. So he decides to go run to the mall and pick up some last minute things. He needs new swim trunks for Cabo, and he’s texting with MDZ, laughing at some snapchat he’d sent to him and Brownie and Blacker, when he gets hit with that feeling again in the dressing room. 

Tyler curses, but he’s in a mall; there are people around… except that there aren’t really a lot. It’s during a weekday, and most people are at work or in school. It’s not empty, by any means, Tyler should be okay so long as he stays in public. 

Except he’s in a dressing room with no one else in it, his pants around his ankles, and the guy is standing just outside his door. 

Tyler can feel his hands wanting to shake, but he’s tougher than that, he’s a hockey player, he reminds himself, and he reaches for his phone, sending out a text to Jamie and Jordie and a few other guys on the team, guys he knows will maybe get there fast. 

“I know you’re in there, I can smell you, little one,” the guy says. The door rattles as he tries the door. “Open up, now, be a good girl.” 

“I’m not a girl, you dumbass,” Tyler says, pitching his voice loudly. Maybe one of the employees will come in. 

“Hey,” he shouts. His phone pings, and he glances at it, sees the quick reply from Chaser and yells for an employee. “Hey, anybody working out there?” 

“They’re all busy helping another customer,” the guy says. “Come on out, Tyler, I ain’t gonna hurtcha. Much.” 

Tyler’s phone pings again, a reply from Jordie: We’re on our way. Apparently, that’s not enough, though, because his phone rings. The guy is crooning at him, and sees the door rattle again and then give a weird, cracking sound. The guy curses, but Tyler looks down and to his horror, sees the guy’s face peering under the door. 

“Get the fuck out,” Tyler says, and struck with inspiration, he fumbles quickly and takes a picture of the guy. He’s backed up into the corner, and he feels trapped, probably because he is. 

He doesn’t think, just hits a few buttons, only one eye even on the guy who is trying to get his shoulders through the narrow opening. 

“You have to come out sometime,” the guy says. His voice is honey rich, and he’s a little bit mesmerizing, even though he is nothing like what Tyler would ever want near him. He can feel the pull that the guy is exuding, feels his body wanting to change. 

“Girls like you, you’re meant to be bred by guys like me,” he says. “Bend you over, push you against the glass, fill you up with my seed, get you cooing like a dove in no time for it, I bet.” His eyes are glazed over, even as he struggles to get through, and Tyler feels a bit of a hysterical laugh bubbling up. He has one arm through and tries to grab Tyler’s ankle, but it’s just out of reach. 

“I could fucking bash your face in, right now,” Tyler says, and kicks at his hand, then at the guy’s face. The guy flinches back, grunting, and Tyler grazes his forehead with his foot, only he’s in his socks, having removed his shoes to try on jeans, so the foot sort of slides, and the guy latches onto it with a lightning reflex, but Tyler twists and gets it free.

His phone is buzzing with a call, and Tyler thumbs the green button and puts it on speaker. He’s terrified and tempted, because the beast is putting out some serious pheremones or some shit, but the terror is winning out, making Tyler want to run away or fight. And he’s trapped, so running isn’t an option. 

The beast wisely chooses to pull himself back out, so he’s on the other side of the door. 

“You on your way?” Tyler asks, not even looking to see who it is. 

“My flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow,” Michael says, and Tyler glances at his phone in surprise. 

“Come out, come out, little girl,” the beast singsongs, and Michael asks, “What the fuck is going on? You watching a movie or something?” 

“No, I’m trying on clothes and there’s a creepy-ass dude in here trying to get to me through the door.” 

“Wow, man. Your fans are nuts,” MDZ says. 

“Have you told him what you are?” the beast asks. “Pretty little girl like you.” 

“Wow, yeah, have you called security?” 

Shit, Tyler hadn’t thought of that, just called his boys. He feels like an idiot, but he doesn’t hesitate, just says, “of course.” 

“So where are they?” the guy taunts, and in an act of timing that couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d tried, that’s when the store salesperson walks in, and starts demanding the guy leave. 

“Security is on their way,” he says, and there’s the sound of striking flesh, a grunt. Tyler feels his stomach go cold, but the beast doesn’t even have time to say anything before there are more voices and shouting. 

“I’ll give you a call later,” Tyler says hurriedly, and hangs up. 

He comes out only when another person, a woman but with an authoritative voice, tells him it’s safe, they’ve escorted the man out of store and he’s being taken to await the police arriving. She walks with him to the front of the store, keeping up a steady stream of questions, taking his report but in a soothing, calm manner. She’s a bit older, maybe her mid-30s, Tyler thinks, and exudes the kind of calm authority he recognizes in not only a female cop, but in someone who probably has kids, and Tyler takes a deep, steadying breath. 

Now that it’s over, the incident is really starting to rattle him and he wants to get out of there, but she’s still asking questions and reading his answers back to him. He doesn’t know what to say, is the thing; he doesn’t want to give any indication about why the beast was doing that because he doesn’t want to out himself as a shifter inadvertently, not this way. But she seems suspicious when she keeps coming back to why the guy kept saying he’s a girl, and Tyler just shrugging, saying, “the guy’s delusional or something, I don’t know.” 

It’s only a few minutes later, but Tyler spies Chaser coming at him full speed, and they’re joined by Jordie and Jamie and Dills a few minutes later.

“Wait, is that the same guy?” Dills asks, and the officer picks up on this immediately. “Wait, you’ve encountered him before?” 

“Not directly, no,” Tyler says, cutting in hurriedly. “Just thinking I’ve seen him in the stands, obnoxious fans, you know?”  
She turns her glare on him. “Why didn’t you say that already? If he’s latched on to you, we need to know.” 

“Fans get crazy, you know? I didn’t really think it was relevant,” Tyler says. 

“Are we free to leave?” Jamie asks. “I just think we need to get Tyler home where he feels safe.” 

 

Surrounded by his teammates and friends, he takes leave of the officer after she says they’ll be following up with him and they head toward the doors, his idea of purchasing jeans completely forgotten. 

“I’ll drive Tyler,” Jamie says. 

Tyler doesn’t protest, just leads him to his car and gets in the passenger side willingly, leaning his forehead against the window. 

“Fuck, that was close,” Tyler says. 

“You’re safe now, man,” Jamie says, but Tyler just sighs, his breath hitting the window. 

“For how long?” 

“The officer was right, you should maybe consider a restraining order,” Jamie says, “stalker delusional fan, you know?” 

“It’s not like that’s going to stop him,” Tyler says. “He’ll be back. And even if he’s not, what’s to stop him from outing me?”

“We’ll talk to management, your agent, whatever, we’ll get you security if we have to,” Jamie says. “He’s only trying to come after you when you’re alone, right? We won’t leave you alone.” 

“I’m not going to worry about it for a few days, anyway, I leave for vacay and you’ll be in Sochi,” Tyler says, and puts on a smile for Jamie’s sake. Jamie bites his lip and concentrates on navigating through the city, but he does reach over and pat Tyler’s thigh, two taps of reassurance. “You’re gonna be just fine.” 

****  
Tyler is not really fine. He hasn’t told DZ about his shifter status, but he knows he’s going to have to, if only because he’s feeling the need to shift pretty overwhelmingly. And he’s attracted enough to DZ that he kind of wants to let him know, too, and he thinks maybe DZ has some attraction to him, too, from their interactions, and Tyler’s wise enough to have realized by now that he tends to want to shift around people he wants to fuck, even if he doesn’t want them to fuck him in his female form. It’s weird, he thinks. Sometimes he doesn’t even understand his own motives of physiological reactions, but if he tries too hard to analyze it, it reminds him uncomfortably of what those alpha assholes have to say, and he shies away from that. 

One of the first thing Tyler does is head out on the patio area where they’re staying; it’s an amazing ocean view separated from the pool only by a wall. He stretches his arms out and breathes in the air; there’s no pressure here, no one with any expectations except for a good time. 

He hears the click sound of the phone; looks over his shoulder to grin at DZ. He’s just come out of his room, which is separated from Tyler’s by a bathroom, a door on each end of the room. They’d both been open when Tyler had arrived. The others have a similar setup next door so that the four bedrooms wrap around the back of the house, curving slightly to each look over the ocean. The other guys are off in their rooms, unpacking or whatever, and it’s just the two of them for the moment. 

Tyler wanders back into his room and locks the door; he debates about shutting the blinds and patio doors in case the others wander out, but the breeze is too nice; still, he steps back into the privacy of his bedroom and looks at DZ. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says, sitting down on the chair inside the bedroom. DZ raises an eyebrow, but he’s still a bit distracted, fiddling with his phone. “Put that away.” 

DZ tosses it on the bed and looks at Tyler. “Yeah, what?” 

“I’m --sometimes I’m a girl,” he says, and DZ blinks. “Like, I’m a shifter. A shapeshifter.” 

“Okay. Did you bring a bikini?” DZ asks. 

Tyler furrows his brow. “No, trunks, why?” 

“Because I want to go swimming,” DZ says, and pads out to the pool, tugs his shirt over his head, and jumps in. 

Well, then. 

“The other guys don’t know,” Tyler tells DZ later, sitting with his legs in the water while DZ stands in the pool, his arms propped on the side. They’re sitting over in chairs, drinking beers and passing their phones back and forth; the sun is setting and Tyler’s getting hungry. In a few minutes, they’ll all go in and get changed, decide what to eat, but for now, it’s quiet, just him and his buddies, chilling. 

“Who does?” DZ asks. “I’m not like, the only one.” 

“There was an incident in Boston, so they know,” Tyler says, and narrows his eyes. “You’re not surprised. Why are you not surprised?” 

DZ shrugs. “I might have heard a rumor or two.” 

Dread settles in the pit of Tyler’s stomach. “So everyone knows?” 

DZ shakes his head. “No, it’s… I grew up with one of the guys that played with you on the Whalers, back when you turned, he was buzzing about it. Didn’t say your name, he had your back, but I know you played with him, so.” 

Tyler absorbs that. “Doesn’t bother you, I take it?” 

DZ grins up at him, then, and though Tyler can’t really see his eyes behind the sunglasses, he thinks he knows that look. “Not nearly as much as it bothers you, I think.” 

Tyler laughs, a little, low in his throat. “I’ve been fighting the urge to change all day,” he confesses. “I don’t need to, it’s not a buildup or anything, just that my instincts are there. I’ve been fighting it a lot, lately, honestly. It’s weird, because I feel the need less, like, hormonally? I don’t have to change. But like, on another level, I do. It scares me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I could lose everything if I can’t -- or don’t -- change back.” 

DZ shifted a little closer. “Just go with your instincts.” 

Tyler glanced up and behind them, and DZ tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Okay, maybe not right this second, but later. I -- do you want to show me? Are you comfortable with that?” 

A low knot of anticipation stirs in Tyler, he nods. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I told you about it mostly so you wouldn’t freak out if I did in front of you.” 

“Cool. Later, then. Tonight.” 

He heaves himself up from the water, and he’s close enough that a lot of it surges up and splashes on Tyler. Tyler shakes himself off, laughing, and they both get up and wander over to the others, DZ asking, “What are we doing for dinner?” 

***  
Tyler changes in front of DZ. He thinks about doing it fully clothed, but the guys are still at the bar, and they’re back there talking about the hot tub, and Tyler thinks, fuck it. He strips off his clothes and wanders over to the patio, naked, and DZ comes out and kind of stops cold when he sees him. Before DZ can say anything, Tyler closes his eyes and lets the shift take over. He doesn’t open his eyes again until he hears DZs flip flops against the ground, then the slightest touch of breath ghosting over him. He can smell the beer and steak DZ ate, and the way DZs fingers ghost over his skin. 

“You make a hot chick, Segs.” 

Tyler grins. 

DZ drops the towel and reaches for Tyler, but Tyler shies away. “Hot tub,” he says firmly, but he lets his eyes wander freely down DZ’s chest and body, his legs and back up with a quirk of his brow. DZ grins, knowing he’s not saying no. 

“We can talk about boundaries,” Tyler adds. He gets in and the water feels almost too hot at first, but it quickly settles into that amazing feeling that hot tubs have, lapping over his bare skin and nipples, and it feels good. 

DZ grabs two beers from the cooler that is stashed out there and brings them over, climbing in clumsily himself. He hands one to Tyler, studying his face. 

“If your hair was a little longer, you’d be the perfect woman,” DZ says frankly, and Tyler laughs. “Nothin’s ever good enough for you, eh?” 

“I don’t want perfect,” DZ says. “Perfect never stays that way for long.” 

He moves across the space. “You were saying something about boundaries?” 

Tyler says, “I don’t --” but that’s DZ’s hand on his thigh, slippery in the water, and sliding up, and Tyler thinks he should finish the sentence, but finds that he really doesn’t want to. DZ kisses him, then, and he’s a good kisser. Tyler’s had better first kisses, but they find the right give and take, and DZ turns Tyler toward him with fingers brushing over his cheek. 

“I came here hoping this would happen,” DZ said, pulling back. “Not that you’d turn into a girl, but that I’d get to kiss you, maybe fuck you. I expected more stubble, but,” he laughs, “I’m pleasantly surprised at the lack of it.” 

Tyler laughs, leaning forward. “Kiss me again,” he says, “Tomorrow, you’ll get the full-unstubbly experience of me in male form, if you want it.” 

DZ groans. “Yeah, yeah I do,” he says. “But we should head back inside before the others get back.” 

***  
The truth is, Tyler thinks the next morning, touching himself between his legs, where he’s still wet and a little bit raw, he was tired of waiting for it.

But that’s not the whole truth he thinks as he shifts back to being male, feels the way his muscles shift and grow, and he jacks off a few times before turning over and reaching for Michael. The whole truth is that he wanted to make sure that first was a good experience at the hands of someone he likes, not at the hands of some oversized ape rapist. 

And it was a good experience. DZ not only knows what to do, he has stamina to match Tyler’s, even in female form, so that Tyler got a lot of orgasms out of it. He got one when DZ had him ride his his face while Tyler held on to the headboard, and he’d heard the muffled laughter from the next room over when they came in and heard it thumping, though it hadn’t slowed either Tyler or DZ down. He was almost freaked out by the incredibly female noise he makes, a sort of whine that hits from the back of his throat just before the orgasm crests; his breath hitches and stops, then gasps out as he rides it out, DZ still lapping at him with more enthusiasm than technique.

The second orgasm he technically gave himself, on his knees with DZ’s dick in his mouth and his own hand buried between his legs, but it was the way DZ looked down at him, fingers brushing around where Tyler’s lips were wrapped around the head and stroking the hollows of his cheeks that really did him in. 

The third orgasm was a little more tough to achieve because his clit feels almost numb and oversensitized, but DZ didn’t get to where he was in the NHL by giving up, and neither did Tyler. Tyler was so wet and sloppy and still so horny that when DZ slid on the condom and then pressed in while he was standing over the dresser, Tyler made no move to stop him, could only brace himself and spread his legs a little wider. And that -- it was so big from that angle, almost painful, but so fucking good that Tyler couldn’t have stopped him if he’d wanted to. A few thrusts and a slight shift in his stance later, DZ fucked any doubts straight from Tyler’s mind.

It took three more positions for him to truly be ready for another orgasm, though, straddling DZ as he slouched in the chair, DZ sucking on one breast and flicking his thumb over the nipple on the other. 

The last one was a kind of lazy, exhausted roll of DZs hips, DZ coming down from his own orgasm and softening slightly but not yet pulling out, and Tyler shifted his hips, looking up at him, and DZ smiled so sweetly that he felt a low-grade one hit, his body too tired to do more than fill him with a faint echo of the previous ones. Tyler wasn’t complaining; DZ shifted out, holding onto the condom and that was awkward and uncomfortable, leaned over to tie it off and toss it in the can, and then slumped back on the bed, face down. 

They both fell asleep pretty quickly, and Tyler wakes up feeling pretty refreshed and ready to go again. 

DZ wakes up to Tyler rubbing his face over his ass, and he groans, sneezes three times, and laughs. “Hell of a way to wake up,” he says. 

“Is that a no?” Tyler asks, or really, rasps. 

“Oh, it’s absolutely on,” DZ says. “What would you like to do first?” 

Tyler doesn’t reply with words, just sticks his tongue out and licks a line slowly down DZ’s ass to dip between his cheeks. DZ spreads his legs, huffing out a breath. 

“Fuck,” he says when Tyler takes that as the invitation to do what he wants, and Tyler’s too busy using his lips and tongue to wiggle his way into DZ’s hole to say anything else. 

DZ is happy to return the favor later, and follows opening Tyler up with his mouth by fucking into him; the tight hot feel and friction, even with the lubricant, and the way he feels stuffed full and spread wide open completely different to the slick slide of the night before. Tyler loves the exposed feeling of being on his hands and knees, his ass thrust into the air and hands holding his hips, likes the feeling of not being in control that this affords him so much that sometimes, it scares him. 

Michael’s dick is nice, not the biggest he’s had by a long shot and not quite as big as his own, but Tyler doesn’t mind. He’s not a size queen so much; too big and it can be more painful and awkward than hot, but DZ’s dick is uncut like his, with a slight curve to it and a really full head with a nice ridge that was fun to trace with his tongue.

DZ pulls out and flips Tyler onto his back. “You have a really nice dick,” he says, eyeing it, though he’s too busy shoving Tyler’s legs up against his chest. Tyler’s not quite that flexible, but when he spreads his legs and lets his knees go to either side, he feels like he can breathe. He grabs his foot, fingers wrapping between his toes, and concentrates on everything centered around and inside his hole, where DZ is fucking him with as much intensity as he had last night, eyes squeezed shut only to open and focus on Tyler’s face. Tyler licks his lips, gasping a little with each thrust; DZ reaches down to touch Tyler’s dick, starts jacking him off, squeezing with the kind of pressure that girls never quite manage, too afraid it’ll hurt. 

His ass makes a squelching sound which isn’t sexy at all, but it makes DZ laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh with him. The headboard is squeaking, too, and it makes a weird cacophany of sound that is kind of making it hard for Tyler to concentrate, so he says, “Stop for a second, stop.” 

He gets up and pushes DZ down into the chair so he can back up and straddle his legs. . 

“How are you so much heavier?” DZ asks, and Tyler shrugs, too busy sitting down on the cock that DZ holds steady. They both groan when Tyler bottoms out.  
He holds onto his cock and balls for a bit, not liking the way they flop up and down. Truth is, he’s horny but not that hard, and right now, he just wants Michael to get off. 

“You ever try bottoming?” Tyler asks, and Michael thrusts up hard, breath hitching. 

“No. Are you asking me to?” 

“If you want to,” Tyler says, and he realizes that sounds wishy washy, so he says, “Yes, I’m asking you to, for me.”

“Okay,” DZ says. “But I’m going to come, first.” 

Tyler’s down with that, so he tightens his ass muscles, flexing them around DZ, who groans hard at the feeling and starts jackrabbiting up as much as he can with Tyler’s ass pressing him down. Tyler braces himself, holding onto the chair arm with one hand. 

Michael comes hard, and almost immediately pushes at Tyler’s ribs to stand up, so he does, pulling off painfully. He flops down on the bed on his back, grimaces at the way his mouth tastes. They haven’t kissed yet this morning because morning breath is never okay, at least in his book, so while Michael’s still recovering in the chair, Tyler rolls off the bed, managing to land on his feet and heads for the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth when DZ comes in, and he crowds in behind him, limp dick brushing up against Tyler’s ass. 

“I still need to get you off,” DZ says, picking up his toothbrush. 

“Trust me, if we’re keeping score, I’m still several ahead of you. Perks of being a girl sometimes, multiple orgasms,” Tyler says, and spits. 

“Yeah, well, later you can maybe show me a thing or two,” DZ says and they leer at each other comically in the mirror, DZ with his toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth, and Tyler’s chin dripping with water. 

He grabs a towel and dries his chin, then indicates the shower. “So, I gotta hop in, I reek.”

“We both do,” but DZ thankfully doesn’t take that as an invitation. Tyler needs some time alone, wants to clean up and figure out what they’ll all be doing for the day, and he appreciates that DZ grins and goes with it. 

Instead, he heads through the other door into his room, and out, saying something about wanting some coffee, and when Tyler comes out of his room and into the kitchen, there’s a pot brewing, with one cup already poured and waiting for him. Tyler takes it, smiling, and they have a quiet, easy breakfast while waiting for the others to wake up and come in. 

Sex between he and DZ is good, bordering on fantastic, even, and DZ is down for trying just about anything, which is cool in Tyler’s book. But they’re both fully aware that this vacation is just that - a temporary respite, and then it’s going to be months until summer again, possibly longer depending on if one or both of their teams get in the playoffs. 

And there’s the fact that they play on opposing teams. It’s not really an issue to their friendship; they both have been traded now, they both have former teammates and friends, or even friends that have never been their teammates; they all know, that team loyalty and friendship aren’t mutually exclusive. Team loyalty is an ever-shifting thing, sometimes, too. 

So when vacation ends and they head back to Nashville and Dallas, it’s not with any kinds of plans or promises, except to hang out when they can and that they’d see each other in the summer. 

Tyler’s been keeping track of the Olympics, wonders how Bergie and Chubbs are getting along; he roots for all his buddies on all the teams because he wants them to do well, but he wants team Canada to do best. And it’s gratifying to see just how well Bennie is proving himself. Haters gonna hate, but Benn is fucking golden right now. 

Tyler’s not ashamed to say that a good goal will get him a little excited; he laughs to himself about a stick handling joke he thinks but doesn’t say out loud; Marshall might not judge him, but Jordie sure as fuck would. Jordie and Dills, Chaser and the others who are still behind, they are all keeping an eye on him, and that’s great, but Tyler’s not feeling so great about the situation. 

The guy, Richard Johnson, was arrested and then put out on bail, and promptly disappeared. The police have no idea where he is. 

Jordie snorts. “Seriously, no wonder the guy has issues. His parents made him a walking dick joke.” 

Tyler laughs, but it’s not that comforting. 

***  
Jamie comes back from Sochi flushed with victory and his part in it. “Let’s go kick some ass boys,” he says, and his grin is infectious. He grumbles about Tyler’s vacation with the guys, but Tyler knows he wouldn’t have chosen anything over Sochi. 

The guys all tease him mercilessly about his bromance with Tavares and hero worship of Crosby and Bergeron, but Tyler understands, mostly because he’s played with Bergie, and even after three years on his team, Tyler still has a little bit of hero worship for him. But truth be told, he’s been feeling that for Jamie, too, and it’s not just his playing. 

“You’re a good leader,” Tyler tells him after one game, a loss after a hard-fought night. They’re playing is streaky, and they’re fighting for a place in a close race for that coveted wild card slot. 

“I know it’s everybody ropes, everybody rides, but you’ve stepped up every time and proved the saying, over and over again.” 

“Jeez, how many beers have you had?” Jamie asks from his couch, his grin crooked. 

Tyler holds up a finger, then switches it to his middle finger, flipping Jamie off. He’s smiling, though, too. “I just want you to know that it’s -- you’re a great guy, Jamie, on-ice and off. I’m glad you’re my friend.” 

“Freddy was fuckin’ right,” Jamie says, looking at him with this awed expression on his face. “You are such a sappy bastard!” 

“Yeah, well, so are you, don’t even try to front,” Tyler says. He gets up, though, and takes their empty bottles to the kitchen to recycle. 

“Grab me another while you’re up,” Jamie calls, and Tyler brings him one, but his other hand is empty. 

“Are you leaving?” Jamie asks when Tyler starts hunting for his flip flops. 

“Yeah, I feel the change coming, so I’m going to head up to bed.” 

Jamie sits up, pulling his lower lip into his mouth. “You know you don’t have to leave, right? I’m not going to freak out; hell, you know that.” 

“I know,” Tyler says, and can’t figure out how to say that it’s not Jamie he’s worried about, then thinks, fuck it, and says, “I um… I get a little horny when I’m in female form, and I tend to do stupid shit.” 

Jamie sort of slumps back into the couch. “And you don’t want me to be the stupid shit. That makes sense.” 

“Um, well, I mean, you’re my friend and --” 

“--Freddy’s your friend.”

“And that’s been awkward for awhile.”

“Didn’t stop you with Kane,” Jamie says, and there’s a bit of bitterness in his voice, now. 

“I--” Tyler is floored. 

“Don’t worry, it was only me who heard that little chirp.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Tyler mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. His stubble constantly itches; it’s one of the nice things about going into female form. 

“And what about Del Zotto?” 

Tyler just stands there, agape. “How did you know about that?” 

Jamie laughs, but it’s not his usual giggle; far from it. There’s a bitter edge to it that Tyler has only heard once before, when Jamie talked about an ex-girlfriend. “God, you two are so freakin’ obvious, especially the Instagram pics. Is he just a friend, too, or is he something more?” 

“He’s a friend,” Tyler says quietly. “I really don’t -- you know, fuck you, man, because if I never turned female, you wouldn’t give me shit for who I sleep with.” 

Jamie is silent on the couch, and Tyler sighs, frustrated. “You fucked Freddy, man. You have no fucking high ground, here.” 

Tyler doesn’t wait around in the hopes that Jamie will respond or apologize; he just takes off and leaves. 

In his apartment, he calls Brownie. “I don’t fucking get it,” he says. “It went from me talking about how great he is, to him basically calling me a slut. And the thing is, if I was always a guy, he wouldn’t give a shit.”

“Well, he would,” Brownie says, “But not for the reason you think. Segs, he wants to fuck you.” 

“In girl form,” Tyler says. “And that’s the thing he doesn’t get, because all three of those dudes, Freddy and Kaner, and DZ, they all wanted to fuck me, regardless of whether I was a guy or a chick.”

Brownie is silent on the phone. “Talk to him tomorrow,” he says finally. “You said yourself he’s a good guy, so give him a chance to redeem himself.” 

“Freddy thinks you and I have been denying a thing for years,” Tyler says. “Is he right?” 

Brownie snorts. “I love you, Segs, like, a brother and a sister all wrapped up in one fantastic package. But no, I am absolutely not interested in banging that body, no matter what form it takes.”

“And it is bangin’,” Tyler says. “So’s yours, for that matter. But I am glad we’re on the same page on this.” 

Brownie grins. “So, DZ, huh?” 

***  
Brownie is right in that Tyler knows he should talk to Jamie about what happened. He’s gone through the conversation over and over in his mind, and he can’t figure out quite why it went so wrong so suddenly. 

But Tyler really doesn’t want to deal with it. He figures he’ll give it a couple days, see what happens, and maybe it’ll all go away just fine. It’s not like they don’t get on each other’s shit on the regular; they both have egos, and especially on the ice, that translates into a lot of arguing. 

And on ice, they’re fine. They maybe aren’t buddy-buddy in the locker room or whatever, but both of them keep their personal shit just that-- personal, so it’s no problem for them to go out and do what they do best. 

Off the ice, things are still cold. Jordie gives Tyler a bit of a dirty look as they’re leaving, but Tyler has to go check out some listings for a house, anyway, so even if they had been just fine, he still would have driven himself in. 

He’s been itching to put down some roots, maybe a show of faith that he’s in it for the long haul here and, well, even if they do end up trading him again, it’s not like Tyler can’t sell the house or something. Besides, this one is special; it’s Mike Modano’s house that he’s looking to buy. 

He’s almost surprised Jamie isn’t in the market for it, given that he worships the guy, practically, but he likes living with his brother in the condo. Tyler wants a pool and a grill; that’s more his style even if it still gets too cold to do it all year round and he’s gone most of the summer. 

Tyler figures it’s best to let this stuff be for now, at least until he’s had a chance to think it through. He realizes that’s a pretty mature thing to think, so when he pulls up at the house, he sends a text to Brownie, all proud of himself. 

***  
Pevs collapsing is quite possibly the scariest thing Tyler has ever witnessed in his life. He wasn’t there for Derek’s crash, only the aftermath, and though he’d heard about it, it’s nothing to seeing firsthand what happened. 

The only comfort he can get from it is that Horts is there, and they have a moment, on the ice and then a few minutes later, when they meet in the hall, to hug it out. Both of them are getting texts from guys they played with on the and Bruins already, and Segs tells them what little he knows, which is that Pevs regained consciousness and that he’s at the hospital. He’s alive. That’s a start.

Jordie comes out and leans against the wall, lending the silent support of his shoulder against Segs. “I’m driving your truck home. You ride with Chubbs.”

Segs doesn’t want to deal but he knows he’s too unsteady to be driving right now, so he nods. “Where is he?” 

“Sorting out a ride for Chaser, checking up on everybody, you know. Chaser took it bad, he’s freaking out a little bit. He and Pevs are tight.” 

Horts gets called away by his team, but he reminds Segs to text him to let him know as soon as he hears anything. “And text more often, you little shit. I miss you.” 

Segs smiles, goes in for another hug, and they cling a little bit to each other. “Fuckin’ ‘Lumbus, man.” 

“I know, right? They’re a good group, though. Scrappy.” 

Jamie comes out shortly after everyone else has gone and hands Tyler his bag. Tyler takes it, hands Jordie his keys and they head to their cars together in silence. 

“I’ll see you when we get back there,” Jordie says. 

In the truck, Tyler says nothing while Jamie fiddles with the radio before turning it off with a sigh. “That is not-- you know, it’s not that I go out expecting horrifying injuries to happen,” Jamie finally says after several fits and starts. “But injuries, at least, are something I feel like we kind of prepare for. This? Jesus.” 

Tyler just hums, because what else is there to say, really? He fiddles with his phone until they get back. Jordie texts to say he’s stopping to grab some food for them, and that sucks, because Tyler just wanted to go into his apartment, cuddle up with Marshall, and be alone. But Jordie has his keys, so that means, for at least a few minutes, Tyler’s stuck following Jamie up to theirs. 

When they are inside, Jamie goes to store his stuff, makes a pass into the kitchen, and grabs some beers. He hands one to Tyler, but Tyler waves him off. “Not when I’m this wrung out,” Tyler says. “Alcohol is the last thing I need.” 

Jamie sets both drinks down on the table, and sits, hunched over and staring between his knees. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night.” 

Tyler turns to look at him. “No, you really shouldn’t have.”

Jamie bites his lip. “It isn’t because you’re sometimes a girl,” he says. “That’s not why I got pissy.” 

“I find that really hard to believe,” Tyler says. “Look, I just-- I can’t talk about this tonight. I can’t accept your apology right now, or pretend that it was okay, because it’s not and I’m not okay.”

Jamie ducked his head. “Okay. But I do mean it, and Seg, Tyler-- you’re my friend, no matter what, okay? If you need anything, I have your back.” 

“Thanks,” Tyler says. 

They sit in silence until they Jordie comes in, and Tyler is up and grabbing his stuff before he’s even removed his shoes. “I need to get down to Marshall, take him out,” Tyler says even though they both know it’s an excuse. They’re home early. 

Jordie frowns, cutting his eyes to Jamie, but he just hands over Tyler’s keys with a muttered, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.” 

****

DZ texts him when he’s sitting with Marshall on the couch, all “Holy shit, is Peverley okay?” And then he picks up the phone and calls before Tyler can reply. “Are you okay, man?” 

Tyler can hear the sounds of his teammates or buddies behind him; he’s not sure who is there, but it sounds like they’re on the bus or something. 

‘I -- yeah, rough night,” Tyler says. He tells DZ what little he knows about Pevs, and says, “There was no way either team was capable of playing after that. Hell, Horty’s one of Pevs’ buddies, too, ya know?” 

“Yeah. Webs was asking, too, he played here for a short time. He’s made a lot of friends.” 

“That’s Pevs for ya.” 

They sit in silence for a bit, and then Michael clears his throat, and says, “So what are you wearing?” 

And Tyler can’t help the surprised laugh; the level of sleaze is just perfect with the timing, and Tyler can hear the disgusted and amused shouts of DZ’s teammates behind him. “You’re on the bus, aren’t you? I guess you’ll all just have to wait until the Body Issue comes out, get a chance to see for yourselves.” 

Later, right before bed, he snapchats a picture of himself, shirtless, covers pulled down enough to be provocative, and with a ridiculous leer on his face. 

He follows it up with a text that says, “thx 4 cheering me up.” 

****  
Tyler comes from the perspective of the oldest child in the family, and he knows how he is with his younger sisters, and how they are with him. Still, it is always sort of surprising to see Jordie and Jamie together; Jamie is the more talented player, pulling Jordie into the spotlight, and yet he’s always, always looking up to Jordie. 

Tyler thinks that Jordie would be happy enough, maybe not thrilled, but okay with doing something other than hockey if Jamie weren’t playing. He’s got the kind of groundedness that says, “this isn’t everything in the world.” If something were ever to happen, Tyler doubts that Jordie would continue to play long at that level after Jamie. He loves the game, sure, but more specifically, he loves playing the game with his brother. 

But the two of them, sometimes, are really hard to take when they are together. They are practically inseparable, except when Jordie’s off with his girl; and he’s settled in a way that Jamie isn’t, but both of them are so confident in the way they have each other’s backs, that Jamie just seems a bit brighter, whenever his brother is around. 

Sometimes, Tyler wishes Jamie got that spark of confidence and playfulness around him, but then he flushes; he wants it for a bit different of a reason. 

And that’s the thing that hurts the most, and why Tyler can’t accept Jamie’s apology. It really isn’t that easy, because Brownie might be right, and Jamie might want to fuck Tyler, but he doesn’t want to fuck Tyler like this, only when he’s got a pussy. And Tyler can’t be that girl. 

The other thing that sucks is that the guys that are in Dallas, that are Tyler’s friends, were all Jamie and Jordie’s friends first, really. Except maybe Nishky, and this is not a complication Tyler thinks he can have with Nishky, even if the language barrier weren’t a huge issue. It’s not that they’d be weird about his sexuality, it’s that Jamie is their captain. Tyler can’t and won’t split the team. 

He wishes Ference were around, then sends him a text, because why not? He and Andy have been texting about Pevs anyway, and about various other stuff, including their running joke about picking up in Whole Foods and Ference ribbing on Tyler’s style. 

Maybe I should dress up as a girl and find me a nice boy at Whole Foods, Tyler jokes, but it must sound wrong, because Andy’s picking up on it immediately. He calls instead of replying back. 

“Have you gone out as a girl since Boston?” he asks, not bothering with greetings and pleasantries.

“Nah,” Tyler says. “Not willing to risk it, even if the team and management down here are supportive.” 

“You’re not ready to come out, are you?” Andy asks. “I mean, you know I’ve got your back, of course, in any way I can, I just don’t get the sense that you’d be ready to put your career on the line at this point.” 

“I already have,” Tyler points out, “And I got traded.” 

“Which has turned out awesome for you,” Andy says. 

“So how are your boys up there? Is Hall as cool as me?” TyIer asks. 

Andy snorts. “Oh my god, I never ever want you two on the same team,” he says. “I mean, I do, because that would be a total medal run, but only if I managed not to kill you both.” 

“So what you’re saying is, we’d get along awesomely.” 

“Far too well, when your egos weren’t getting in the way.” 

“We got along just fine at the draft and shit,” Tyler says. “Hallsy’s a good guy. Not as awesome as me, but still an acceptable substitute.”  
“You’re one of a kind, Segs,” Andy says. “There’s no way to substitute for you.” 

“Damn straight.” 

“So what’s got your panties in a twist that you’re calling me, then?” 

“Well, technically you called me, but… I don’t know. It’s stupid.” 

“Woman problems?” Andy asks. “By which I mean, those girls you like to pick up and take out?” 

“I got 99 problems,” Tyler says. Andy laughs, but Tyler just sighs. 

“Female problems as in too many people want me to be one.” 

“Tell Uncle Andy all about it,” Andy coos, and Tyler laughs. 

“You’re such a creep,” he says, but does indeed tell Andy all about it. 

***  
Andy doesn’t say what Tyler expects him to, which surprises him. Tyler expects Andy to tell him he should work it out with his friend and accept his apology. Andy says, “You have to take the time for you to really mean it when you forgive him, and when you do talk it out -- on your terms, not his -- tell him why it is a problem. Really spell it out for him, and make sure he understands it.”

“I’m not even sure I understand it myself,” Tyler admits. “As a guy, I can understand to an extent where he’s coming from. A straight guy is going to want girl bits, not my danglies.” 

“Look, I’m a straight guy. I like female genitalia, and I love my wife, but I don’t love her because of her body, I love her for her everything. And I’m attracted to the whole package, not just those things. If he really wants you, then he’s going to want -- or at least be able to deal with -- all of those things, especially because the girl parts are the novelty, in this case. You don’t spend that often in female form, so if he’s into you, he’s gotta be into YOUR danglies, Tyler. And I can’t believe I just used the term danglies.” 

Tyler laughs when he hears some muffled speaking; Krista, he figures. Andy laughs and says something back, and then he comes back on, and says, “But the problem isn’t so much all that, though it is a problem. The problem is that you want him to want all of you, regardless of what genitalia you happen to be sporting.”

Trust Andy to cut right to the heart of the matter. 

“How do you really feel about him, Tyler?” 

Tyler thinks about Jamie’s smile, and his eyes, and his stupid, goofy way of showing affection. Thinks about how quiet he is, but yet, he has confidence, and he loves his teammates, and he’s had his back from the get go. Thinks about how he looks after he scores a goal, and fresh out of the shower, and when he’s sprawled on the couch, one hand dangling over to pet Marshall. 

“I -- yeah, I want him to want me. All of me.”

“And now, you need to think about this, and I have to say this, not only as your friend, but a former teammate and as a team captain: if you all pursue this, and it doesn’t work out, you’ll have to deal with the consequences of that.” 

“Yeah, I could lose a lot by it.”

“And so could he,” Andy says gently. “I’m not saying don’t go for it, because you should totally go for it if it’s what you both want. But don’t go in blind. And don’t sell yourself short. Don’t let him sell you short.” 

With that in mind, Tyler finally texted Jamie and asked him when he would be free to talk. 

****

Jamie doesn’t text back right away, and Tyler spends the time pacing around his living room. Finally, for lack of something else to do, he takes Marshall to the dog park and takes pictures of him getting excited by the other dogs. 

“You’re such a stud,” Tyler coos at Marshall, and he smiles his most charming grin at some lovely young ladies. They’re too young to do anything but throw a bit of charm at, but he’s a born flirt, and he ends up horning in on their conversation a bit to tell the one girl not to let her boyfriend disrespect her friends. 

“Seriously, your friends are way more important than any boyfriend,” Tyler tells her earnestly. “Any guy who doesn’t respect your friends won’t respect your choices about other things, and that means he doesn’t respect you.” 

It’s the advice he would (and has) given his younger sisters, and both girls kind of roll their eyes at his obvious big brothering by proxy, but they are smiling, too, so he counts it as a win. 

Finally, finally, Jamie texts him back. _Sry, was at lunch w Chaser n Dills, be there in 15._

Tyler and Marshall head back then, and Tyler thinks maybe he should wear a better t-shirt, but then they run into Jamie in the elevator; him coming from the parking garage under the building. 

“Hi,” Tyler says. 

“Hi,” Jamie says, and he has this hopeful, cautious smile on his face, and Tyler is kind of...they still have to talk, but he thinks, fuck it and so he steps into Jamie’s space and pulls him in. 

The kiss is all shades of awkward, because Tyler was not smooth and his mouth doesn’t quite hit Jamie’s; Jamie is also gawping, lips slightly parted, so there’s a little bit of fumbling and Tyler thinks maybe he can deke into a hug, but then Jamie just grabs his head with his big enormous hands, and holds Tyler still for the second it takes to get their mouths together. Tyler closes his eyes and goes with the kiss, which is aggressive and weird, but like all kisses are, until he feels Marshall tug at his leash. They break apart then, and Tyler steps back. 

“We still have to talk,” he says, and Jamie nods. 

He follows Tyler into the apartment. They both kick off their shoes and Tyler lets Marshall off his leash. He plods into the kitchen, looking back to see if Tyler is following. Tyler is, because Marshall is a good dog and deserves his treat. 

Jamie follows right behind him. He puts a hand on Tyler’s hip as Tyler stretches up on tiptoes to get the box of milkbones from back on the top of refrigerator; as he comes back down, Jamie pulls him back against him. 

He’s hard. 

“I guess that answers that question,” Tyler says, mostly to himself, but Jamie hums at him. “What question?”

“If you were just wanting female me,” Tyler says. 

Jamie goes still. “Is that -- that’s not what I want,” he says. “You have to know -- I want all of you.” 

Tyler rubs his ass against Jamie’s bulge. “Yup, I figured that out.” 

Jamie lets go, though, and leans back against the counter. They both watch Marshall snap the treat out of the air and gulp it down in two bites, look up hopefully for another, and sit on the ground, tail thumping once or twice. 

Tyler’s a sucker; he gives him a second treat, and then puts the box away. He grabs two glasses and gets some water for himself, handing the second glass to Jamie. 

He’s thirsty, yes, but he’s also trying to get his thoughts in order when mostly what he wants to do is push Jamie up against the counter and blow him. 

“I’m not asking because I’m trying to start shit,” Jamie says carefully, “but I have to be clear: what’s going on with you and Del Zotto?” 

Tyler shrugs. “Nothing, he’s just a friend. Why?”

“I just want to make sure I’m not stepping into territory I shouldn’t,” Jamie says. “I’ve been cheated on before; it sucks.” 

“Oh,” Tyler says. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me. I’ve never --” 

“My boyfriend in ninth grade decided he’d rather be with a girl,” Jamie interrupts. “He wasn’t straight and he wasn’t bi, he simply decided it wasn’t worth it to get caught with me. I like girls, I like guys, I like threesomes, I’d like to even maybe try one with you and someone else sometime, but I want to be clear: I like you, dick or pussy.” 

“I like you, too, Jamie. But more to the point, you gotta respect me -- all of me. And my friends, too,” he adds, thinking of the girls at the park. “It’s not enough to just like me, I need to know you’re not going to fetishize me.”

Jamie shook his head. “No, I mean, I’ll try not to, but just--trust me, I’ll be into you not just for the sex, regardless of how that happens. I want us to date,” he says. 

Tyler studies him for a few seconds. He already knows his answer, but right now, he’s looking his fill at Jamie, thinking about how they’re going to do this, and how he’s going to take Jamie apart, first with his mouth, then with his hands, and with his ass and maybe even his pussy. 

“Okay,” he says and Jamie gives him that helpless, beautiful grin of his. Tyler leans against him, and proceeds to kiss it off. 

****

Their relationship isn’t perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination. And when Tyler admits that he’s still going to proceed with his plan of living with DZ in Toronto for the summer, Jamie about hits the roof, but he also says that he trusts Tyler when he says they’ll both have their own rooms. Tyler can tell it’s a struggle for Jamie to put his faith in him, so he wants to figure out a way to reward that trust. 

They get into the playoffs, and that’s the best feeling, right there. It’s not quite celebrating a Stanley Cup win, but it feels good and it’s on home ice, and then they lose in six, and that hurts. But it doesn’t hurt as much as a Stanley Cup loss in six, so there’s that, and he has a new team full of guys who he adores, along with some old teammates who still love him. 

He goes to Vegas and he and Jamie fuck like rabbits. He goes to Boston and gets some work on his tattoos. He and Jamie send snapchats back and forth with updates, and the occasional dick picture. They text a lot. 

They spend their summer mostly apart, though sometimes together, and when they get back to Dallas to start training proper, Tyler is beyond ready to see his boy. 

He’s discovered that Jamie likes to bottom, though rarely. Tyler loves bottoming, so he’s happy to do so, likes the feeling of being spread wide on hands and knees, Jamie’s thick cock pressing into him and then driving hard. 

Jamie likes to alternate his pace, slow, excruciating pushes followed by a hard, fast thrusting, his hips like a jackrabbit. Tyler thinks about it in his car on the way back to his house (he can’t believe he bought Mike Modano’s house, but Jamie likes it a lot, and Marshall loves it, now that they’re all moved in. The only downside is that he’s not just a couple floors away from Jamie; but Jamie spends the night as often as not, leaving Jordie and his girl to have the place for themselves. 

But Jamie has not yet bottomed for Tyler. 

Tonight, though, Tyler has something different in mind. It’s not that he doesn’t want Jamie to fuck him, because he likes flip fucking best, when it comes down to it, it’s that he wants to maybe fuck Jamie, too, this time around. 

They haven’t talked about it, is the thing. And that’s ridiculous because Tyler knows they should discuss it, but it just hasn’t really...come up. So to speak. So when Jamie comes over from some ridiculous thing he and his brother were doing, Tyler thinks he should just ask. 

His plan is to grill some steaks and offer Jamie a beer, and then maybe work it into conversation, but Jamie blows that plan to hell, walking in with an easy smile and a pair of jeans on that make his ass look frankly obscene, in how gorgeous it is. He’s still carrying pre-season muscle, all bulked up, and it makes Tyler’s mouth go dry. Jamie pushes him up against the counter immediately, his kiss fairly aggressive, and Tyler’s both turned on and a little frightened by it. And apparently, his instinct when confronted with this display of alpha maledom is to shift and spread his legs. The shift, while they’re still kissing, throws them both a little off balance. 

Jamie laughs, his arms tightening around Tyler and mouths still pressed a bit together. 

“Stupid body,” Tyler mutters, because he knows he’s not going to shift back tonight. “I’d really wanted to maybe fuck you tonight.” 

Jamie’s eyes darken. “And you can’t shift back?”

“I could, but it would be a struggle,” Tyler admits. “I don’t know that I’d have the ability to do that, since I’d be fighting the desire to shift back to this the whole time.” 

“Why?” Jamie asks. “You were just shifted yesterday.”

Tyler shrugs. “Something about you in this mode; it just sets me off.” 

Jamie frowns. “You mean, like how? I’m not making you feel pressured somehow, am I?” He steps back, arms wide, and braces himself on the counter opposite. 

“No, nothing like that,” Tyler says. This was not the thing he’d planned on saying. “It’s -- okay, bear with me, because this might start off sounding wrong, okay?” At Jamie’s frowny little nod, Tyler goes on. “Right now, you’re all large and bulked up, and it’s a good look on you. But my body is responding to that kind of like it responded to the weird alpha dude; somehow. It’s instinct to want to lie back and spread ‘em. The difference is that, with you, it’s almost more overwhelming because I like you, and you aren’t all hopped up on testosterone overdrive.” 

“I am a little, though,” Jamie says. “I’ve worked out hard today and I’m fucking horny, and I did come on a bit strong, there.” 

“I want you to,” Tyler says immediately. “That was hot. And sometimes, this is just fine, and I’m going to lie back and spread ‘em, because that’s exactly what I want. Just thinking about it has me practically dripping. It’s just something to keep in mind, you know? That coming at me in certain ways is going to have these results.” 

Jamie nods. “Okay. And when you say you’re dripping, does that mean it’s okay if I bend you over the counter right now?” 

Tyler pushes his now-too-large pants over his hips, along with his boxers and turns. “For fuck’s sake, please do.” 

****

The next morning, Jamie is sleeping beside him, and Tyler is back in male form. He thinks about the very satisfying sex they had, and starts rubbing his hand up and down Jamie’s very hefty bicep. His own arms are pretty damn nice, he thinks, but there’s something about Jamie’s that makes him want to bite it, a little, and nothing beats feeling them wrapped around him. He has a new tattoo that Tyler privately thinks is a bit hideous, but he loves it anyway because it’s so very Jamie. Ference had laughed himself silly when Tyler had told him that, but what the fuck does Ference know? 

(A whole fucking lot, actually, not that Tyler will ever admit that to him.)

Jamie stirs, mumbling sleepily, and blinks his big brown eyes awake, staring at Tyler. Then, “You should fuck me, now,” and Tyler almost falls off the bed with how quickly he grabs the lube and condoms from the nightstand. 

“I have one request,” Jamie says. He bites his lip. “I know you haven’t slept with anyone else, and neither have I, not since we started, so. I can’t get pregnant. Can we not?” He gestures to the condom. 

Tyler tosses it over his shoulder without looking, grinning. “Can I just say that I love that they test us automatically for everything when we do our pre-season physicals?” 

Jamie grins and then flips on his belly, tucking his forehead on his folded arms. He spreads his legs and arches his back, and Tyler is on that shit, up behind him almost before he realizes he’s even moved, and he pours the lube on his fingers, coating them and warming it up, then, “Ready?” 

“Ready,” Jamie says, and deliberately relaxes his muscles. Tyler watches his ass unclench and then reaches down, rubbing one finger over the crack and between, using the fingers of his other hand to press the cheeks apart. 

“God, your ass is beautiful,” Tyler says, and Jamie snorts with laughter. He moans a bit, though, when Tyler’s finger rubs over his pucker and then presses in. 

Prepping Jamie is fun in itself, and Tyler can definitely say he enjoys it, but his cock is aching and he wants to stick it in there, so he pulls his fingers out and asks again, “Ready?”

“Yes, fuck me already,” Jamie says in this gorgeous, low voice, so Tyler coats himself and pulls Jamie onto his knees, back arched and ass pressed against his groin. A little shifting, and then Tyler pushes in, slowly but steadily, to Jamie swearing up a blue streak. “So good,” he moans, and doesn’t give them any time to adjust or be still, just rocks back and starts fucking himself on Tyler’s cock pretty shamelessly. 

The sound of skin slapping skin, both of them occasionally moaning, and Jamie’s swears fill the room. He has a filthy mouth, and during sex, he’s incredibly vocal. It’s incredibly hot and sometimes hilarious, like when he asks Tyler how he likes the view back there. 

It’s good, it’s really fucking good. So good that Tyler can’t quite handle jerking Jamie off, too, but Jamie’s happy to do it himself, pressing his cheek against the sheets, and continuing his litany of filth until Tyler tenses and comes. 

Neither of them are much for talking after; cuddling, yes, and after Tyler goes and gets clean cloths and opens the door for Marshall, they’re nothing but a tangle of limbs and cold, wet noses (well, just Marshall for the latter).  
But after they’ve dozed for a while, Tyler and Jamie’s stomachs are both insisting that they are past due for breakfast, so Jamie heads to the kitchen while Tyler puts on clothes and shoes, and takes Marshall for a walk. 

He feels good, satisfied in a way he’s never before felt. His teammates (past and present) know of his shifting and are cool with it, and he has a gorgeous boyfriend and linemate who likes him for him, not for what’s between his legs (or even his abs or whatever). 

The season is starting in a few weeks, and already, they’re buzzing. They’ve lost some teammates, they’ll get some new ones, and whether or not they’re cool with Tyler will be on them, not him. 

For the first time in his life, Tyler isn’t scared. He’s not naive, this isn’t a happy ending, but it’s a pretty strong beginning for what could be a great season. 

When he gets back, Jamie is plating up their breakfast, and when he looks up and smiles, Tyler smiles back. Yes, indeed, it’s going to be a good year.


End file.
